


In These Unprecedented Times

by annazonfox



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: BDSM, Bisexuality, Dom/sub, Eventual Smut, F/F, Femslash, No Lesbians Die, Pandemfic, Pandemics, Quarantine and Chill, Strap-Ons, Switching, Thirsty Eve, Top Villanelle | Oksana Astankova, Top(?)Eve, Useless Lesbians, dark!eve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-15
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-03 18:46:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24730267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/annazonfox/pseuds/annazonfox
Summary: Here’s a Season Two Finale fic, where Eve and Villanelle go on an entirely different mission in Rome and then oh no they get stuck in quarantine lockdown together and there’s only one bed!
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 118
Kudos: 622





	1. Chapter 1

_Come on now, who do you_

_Who do you, who do you_

_Who do you think you are?_

_Ha ha ha, bless your soul_

_You really think you're in control?_

_Well_

_I think you're crazy_

_I think you're crazy_

_I think you're crazy_

_Just like me_

-Gnarls Barkley, “Crazy’

_\---_

_If you want to destroy my sweater_

_Pull this thread as I walk away_

_Watch me unravel_

_I’ll soon be naked_

_Lying on the floor_

_I’ve come undone_

-Rivers Cuomo, “Undone - The Sweater Song”

**xxx**

Eve got out of the taxi with Villanelle and they approached the hotel on foot. Eve took a deep breath, steadying herself. 

A young male bellhop scrambled to pile their luggage onto a cart, even though they only had a few bags. The hotel was a boutique one. Not many rooms. Expensive. Apartment-style suites. Great view of Rome. Perfect for a honeymoon.

Christ. A fucking honeymoon.

Villanelle reached for Eve’s hand, taking firm hold of it. Eve had the instinct to pull her hand away, although she didn’t actually do it. Instead, she fell into place next to Villanelle and they took a few steps together toward the revolving door. Villanelle looked effortlessly stunning in a suit, her hair in a low, somewhat-messy ponytail. She wore trendy glasses that made her look slightly older than she was. 

“Ready to go in?” Villanelle said under her breath, having adopted an American accent. She gave Eve a look that said, _So time to get into fucking character, Eve._

“I think so,” Eve said, running a hand through her shoulder-length bob with red lowlights. A wig. She also wore a short black dress. Something she’d never wear on a trans-Atlantic flight, but sure. Villanelle had helped her put this look together, and as she wore it now, she tried not to feel ridiculous.

“Try to relax. You look very nice,” Villanelle said, gripping Eve’s hand harder as they approached the lobby door. 

“Wait,“ Eve whispered, slowing down her pace and pulling back. “I don’t do this all the time, remember?” 

Instead of responding, Villanelle somehow swiftly maneuvered Eve up against the exterior wall of the hotel, out of earshot of the hotel staff. Villanelle continued to hold one of Eve’s hands, and the other was now at Eve’s waist. She moved her head in as if to kiss Eve, but changed direction so that her mouth was near Eve’s ear. 

“You need to pull it together,” Villanelle whispered, her Russian accent creeping back into her voice. “When we get inside, keep quiet and let me do the talking.” She nipped at Eve’s earlobe and then backed away, smiling broadly. 

Eve’s breath hitched, but she also felt the briefest, momentary urge to slap that smile off Villanelle’s face. How was it that this woman was constantly horrid and irresistable at the same fucking time?

Still, Eve returned Villanelle’s fake smile. “Yes, dear.” 

“Now that’s a good wife,” Villanelle said, adopting her American accent again and backing away. She then said, quite loudly, “I can’t wait to get you inside.” She held her hand out for Eve to take, which Eve did.

“Fucking chauvinist,” Eve muttered, and then immediately felt Villanelle give her hand one tight, painful squeeze before they continued walking.

The hotel lobby attendant opened the door for them and Villanelle made a show of letting Eve walk through the door first. 

The front desk attendant, an older man, greeted them. “ _Buongiorno come stai?_ ”

“Good afternoon,” Villanelle said. “Do you speak English? My wife and I are checking in.”

“Certainly,” he said. “My name is Carlo and I will be helping you today.” He squinted at his computer and then back at Villanelle and Eve. “Let me guess. Susan and Melissa, all the way from sunny California?”

“That’s right,” Villanelle said. She released Eve’s hand and put her elbows onto the tall front desk counter, adopting a sort of standing-up manspreading pose. 

“And how was your flight?” asked Carlo.

“Long,” Villanelle said. She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a wallet. “Bumpy,” she added, handing Carlo a credit card. “But first class is always the way to go.”

He took the card and began entering information into his computer. “Well, perhaps you will want to rest.”

“Yes, I think we will.” Villanelle ran a hand down Eve’s back, touching the soft fabric of her dress, and winked at Carlo, before turning her head and making eye contact with Eve. Her hand rested at the small of Eve’s back and pulled her closer.

Villanelle wasn’t just acting, she had become this other persona. “Sue” from California. A soft butch with a swagger, who had wooed her interior designer (if anyone asked). The transformation was incredible.

Eve realized she was analyzing, so she steadied her voice. “Rest would be good.” She saw a flicker of Villanelle in “Sue’s” face, as if she was pleased, maybe? Or fear? Or relieved Eve hadn’t fucked up their cover, at least, and could contribute to the “performance.”

Villanelle licked her bottom lip and then turned back to Carlo. “You heard the lady.”

Carlo nodded. “Here are your room keys,” he said, handing her a packet and returning the credit card. “Your room is on the top floor, and it is the only suite up there. We have room service 24 hours a day, and if you need anything at all, please call. Is there anything more I can help you with at the moment?”

“I think that’ll do’er,” Villanelle said, putting her hands in the pockets of her pants and starting to turn away. “Oh, just one more thing,” she said. “We don’t want to be disturbed tomorrow morning. Or tomorrow, at all, really.”

The mission the next day required Villanelle to sneak out in disguise, with Eve staying in the room listening in on a wire. 

“Certainly,” said Carlo. “I will inform our housekeeping staff. And speaking of which, we noticed the ‘reason’ for your visit.”

Eve’s heart thudded a little faster in her chest.

Villanelle turned back to Carlo and said, smooth as silk. “Did you now?”

“From your reservation,” Carlo said. “Congratulations are in order, yes?”

Villanelle gave a nod and then turned her head to Eve, “Show your ring, babe.”

Eve held up her left hand, willing it not to tremble, and displayed the ring. It was unique, and suitable for an interior designer. It had no diamond, but was a black band with gold wire melded into it. 

“ _Tanti auguri,”_ Carlo said. “We have left champagne and chocolates in your suite.”

“Perfect,” Villanelle said.

**xx Day One xx**

  
  


“What do you think, Eve?” Villanelle said, shutting the hotel door behind them after handing the bellhop a substantial tip. She spun around the suite, taking it all in. “Not bad, huh?” She had reverted back to her Russian accent. 

Eve took a few steps further into the room. It was glorious. 

“Thanks, Carolyn,” she said, under her breath. Running a team off the official books, and without the usual bureaucratic travel per diems, had certain benefits. Besides, it fit into their cover story for being in Rome together. 

Through the entryway was a living area space with a large, plush sofa, an electric fireplace, and a mini-kitchen at one end, with a high-top bar and tall stools. The champagne was chilling in a bucket of ice on the counter. Two glasses waited expectantly next to it. 

Adjacent to the bar, an entire wall was basically a window with a beautiful view of the city, with screen doors opening onto a large private balcony. Blackout curtains could be dropped by simply flipping a switch on the wall. 

The bathroom was about the size of Eve’s first studio apartment and had one of those showers that is like rain falling from the sky, in addition to a large tub for soaking.

The suite had a separate bedroom with a king-sized bed, and another electric fireplace built into one of the walls. The bellhop had left both of their suitcases together neatly in front of the closet.

“You take it,” Villanelle said, nodding toward the large bed. “I can sleep anywhere.”

“Thank you,” Eve said. So that was that. Their sleeping arrangements. 

She walked to the bar. The chocolates were next to the champagne, so she started opening the box, feeling ravenous, and plopped onto a bar stool.

“Unless,” Villanelle said, giving Eve a sidelong glance from the bedroom doorway. “You want company. That is a _really_ big bed, and you are not that big of a person.” Her fingers began working at her own dress shirt, slowly unbuttoning it. 

“Villanelle,” Eve said, in a tone that said no. She stuffed a piece of chocolate in her mouth and closed her eyes. It was divine. She tried to focus on that rather than on the woman slowly undressing in front of her. 

“Fine,” Villanelle said. “Whatever.”

Eve always found the teenage American-isms to be a strange, interesting juxtaposition coming from Villanelle. Like, despite everything, these turns of phrase were a clue to the real Oksana, the one who lived beneath the endless layers of facades. 

When Eve opened her eyes again, Villanelle still stood in the doorway, her shirt unbuttoned, slightly open, but still on. Her costume glasses were now pushed up on the top of her head like sunglasses. “I’m going to take a shower,” she said.

Eve continued to stare openly as she chewed on the chocolate, her mouth filling with saliva. She wiped her bottom lip with the back of her hand. 

Villanelle raised her eyebrows once, her mouth smiling subtly, knowingly, before she turned her back and entered the bedroom. She emerged a few seconds later with her suitcase, which she carried into the bathroom.

Eve looked after her for a moment, and then eyed the champagne. She thought better of it. She should have a clear head tonight.

The sound of the shower running came from the bathroom. Villanelle had left the door wide open, of course, although from the angle Eve was sitting, she couldn’t actually see into the bathroom. (She tried).

Eve realized, with annoyance, that she had to pee. But, she wouldn’t dare give Villanelle the satisfaction of asking to go right now, especially since she’d be in who-knows-what state of undress at this point. Instead, Eve opened the refrigerator. It was well-stocked with bottles of water, juice, and beer, along with an array of snacks. 

She opted for a beer. So much for a clear head. At least it would take the edge off. She should eat. Eating would be good. “Hey,” she called out. “Do you want room service?” She started looking around for a menu and found one near the phone in the kitchen. 

Villanelle peeked out from the bathroom, startling Eve. First, her head, then her torso. She was naked from the top up and apparently hadn’t gotten in the water yet. “Sure,” she said, with a nod “Order me whatever you’re having.”

Eve stared for a beat and then quickly looked at the menu in her hands, intently looking at it without looking at it. “Okay,” she said, wincing at how it came out too loud, too nervous, too trying-too-hard-to-act-like-seeing-Villanelle’s-fabulous-tits-wasn’t-a-goddamned-revelation.

Her fucking fabulous tits. 

Eve shook her head. God damn fucking hell.

**xxx**

  
  


They ate pasta bolognese for two, across from each other at the bartop, along with freshly-baked bread with olive oil and grated parmesan for dipping. Eve ate delicately, careful not to spill sauce on her clothes, taking regular sips from a second beer, while Villanelle ate ravenously and had tomato sauce on at least two different spots around her mouth. 

Eve had changed into sweatpants and a soft tank top. Villanelle wore the hotel robe over her designer pajama set, her hair pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head.

It was early evening, and Eve felt both antsy and exhausted. “We should go over the mission again,” she said.

“What is there to talk about?” Villanelle said, slurping down another forkful of noodles. “I go to the party and try to get a confession from the target.”

“Just like that? You think it’s that simple?”

“Just like that,” Villanelle said, and shrugged. She stopped eating and took a drink from her glass of water. After she swallowed, she said. “I will be what the man wants me to be. A young, dumb girl horny for his dick, even though deep down he knows the only reason I’m talking to him is his money. It is very easy to get men to let down their guard. And all you, Eve Polastri, have to do is listen in on it all.”

“Okay, but what if it’s not that easy?”

“Then I adapt, like I always do. Now,” Villanelle said. Underneath the table, she nudged one of Eve’s knees with her own. “Let’s talk about something else. We are not often alone together like this. In a place all to ourselves.”

“I didn’t come here so we could become best friends,” Eve said.

“Oh,” Villanelle said, her mouth turning up on one side. “I certainly hope not.” She set her fork down, leaned back in her chair, and put her hands behind her head. 

Eve had the distinct impression that she was being looked at like she was dessert. She kept her face blank and twirled some more pasta onto her fork.

“Eve,” Villanelle said, laughing, tomato sauce still on her face. “You are so nervous.” She leaned forward then, putting her elbows on the table. “Fine. If you want to talk about the mission, don’t you think we should at least give the hotel people something to talk about? We are newlyweds and they will expect noises like we are having sex all night.”

“I’d really rather not.” Eve could feel her face redden and a heat creep up her neck. Despite herself, she tried to imagine even getting into the frame of mind where she’d be able to loudly fake orgasms and sex noises with Villanelle. That imagery went nowhere safe.

“You wouldn’t have to fake it, you know,” Villanelle said, raising one eyebrow.

Eve bet she wouldn’t. She took another drink of the beer, having no response to that.

Villanelle let out a laugh. “You see, this is why I work alone,” she said. She shook her head, and grabbed another piece of bread, tapping it in the olive oil a few times. “I am very good at this job. By myself.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Eve said quietly. 

Villanelle mock gasped. “You are afraid? Of me?”

“Well,” Eve started. “Sometimes us being alone together doesn’t end very well.”

“Now that is a funny way to put it,” Villanelle said. She bit into the bread. “You stabbed me. That was not nice,” she said, with her mouth full.

“Yeah, well. You killed Bill.”

“And now you are scared I will get payback?” Villanelle said, ignoring the comment about Bill. “Maybe climb into bed with you in the night and do terrible things to your body.”

Eve swallowed. Had this mission been a mistake? She had a safeword she could text to Carolyn, if it came to that. But, Carolyn was all the way in London, and what the fuck was the safety plan, exactly? 

This arrangement was beginning to feel like the end of that movie _Dumb and Dumber_ , where the investigators had one of the dumbfuck guys go undercover with a bulletproof vest, knowing full well he could have been shot in the head. _“It’s a risk we were willing to take,_ ” they’d said.

Villanelle was right here. In this room. This trip was lunacy.

“I think you could do terrible things to me, yes,” Eve answered, finally. 

“You really think that?” Villanelle said. She made a “hmm” sound. 

“Yes. But,” Eve said. “You also could have done so by now. Many times over.”

“Undoubtedly,” Villanelle said. She took another bite of noodles, and then spoke. “Just so you know, Eve. I understand why you had to stab me.”

Okay, sure. “And why is that, Villanelle?”

“You are scared of me.”

“Yeah, no shit.”

“But not for the reason you are thinking.”

“Okay,” Eve said. “Do you want to elaborate on that?”

“No. I will just let that marinate in your beautiful head as you sleep in that gigantic bed all by yourself,” Villanelle said. She scooted her chair back and stood up. 

“Great, thanks.That doesn’t exactly make me feel better.”

“It’s only one night, Eve. It will be okay. I’m going to go use my water pik now.” 

**xx Day Two xx**

  
  


In the bedroom, Eve slept restlessly through the night and into the morning. When she did dream, it was of Villanelle hiding under the bed or crawling through the window or sliding on top of her, pinning her down, and then she would wake up, heart racing, and check the lock on the bedroom door again. The lock that Villanelle could certainly break through if she really wanted to.

Then, just before dawn, she simply laid awake in bed on her side, wondering if Villanelle was awake too. It wasn’t really that different than any other morning in recent months. Her last thoughts before falling asleep were of Villanelle. And, in the morning, she’d wake up and start thinking about her all over again. 

The only difference now was that Villanelle was just a room away, when usually, she had no idea where Villanelle was sleeping, or who she was sleeping with, for that matter.

Should she have just let Villanelle sleep in the bed with her? Maybe that would have been fine. They wouldn’t have to do anything- 

An irritating, unfamiliar beeping on her phone startled Eve out of her daydreaming. She reached for the phone on the nightstand. An alert message was flashing:

_*SAFETY ALERT: Italy under national lockdown due to new virus. Travel restrictions in place. Scroll for more information.*_

“What the hell,” Eve said, sitting up in bed. She scrolled the message, trying to read quickly. Something about no entry into, or exit from, the country. Mass quarantine. Checkpoints. 

Eve recalled the past couple of months. The news and social media had been chattering about a new virus, while also emphasizing that people in Europe had no reason to panic, or to really even be that concerned. She had her doubts about that narrative, but this sudden escalation was alarming.

Her phone began ringing. It was Carolyn. Eve answered it.

“Eve,” Carolyn said. “I assume you’ve heard.”

“Uh, yeah. What do they mean ‘national lockdown’?”

“Nothing good, I’m sorry to say,” Carolyn said.

“Meaning?”

“We thought this might happen. Eventually, I mean.”

“You _did_?” Eve stood, running her free hand through her hair. “When were you going to tell me?”

“Eve. We assumed we could get you and Villanelle in and out for the mission before governments started implementing anything draconian. Apparently, we miscalculated the timing a bit.”

“Jesus Christ, Carolyn.”

“I know. But, it is what it is. All travel in and out of Italy is prohibited. Police blockades are stationed at checkpoints throughout the city, already set up. Everyone must stay put, inside, except for emergencies.”

“Okay. Does being stuck in a hotel room with an assassin count as an emergency?” Eve asked, only half joking. 

“I’m afraid not,” Carolyn said, all business. “How are you on food? Toilet paper? I hear people in America are hoarding toilet paper and flour. Can you believe that?”

Eve sighed and rolled her eyes. “We have food. But, surely this isn’t going to last more than a few days or so?”

Silence.

“Weeks?” Eve asked. 

“At least. I’ll put additional funds in your account for necessities and to extend your stay at the hotel. Needless to stay, the mission is postponed for now. And please, trust me, I know you have safety concerns. We will do our best to extract you as quickly as possible. But in the meantime.” Here, Carolyn paused.

“In the meantime?”

“Let’s check in every couple of days. And, Eve? Please try to get along with her. Hide the kitchen knives. Whatever you have to do. Maybe order some jigsaw puzzles?”

**xxx**

  
  


After talking to Carolyn, Eve immediately started browsing different travel sites on her phone, looking for any possible way home. Train, plane, car rental, and even boat. She couldn’t find tickets available to purchase anywhere. Just a lot of notices on travel websites saying that services temporarily disrupted. 

As she thought about it more, she realized it probably wasn’t even safe to travel right now. She had no mask. No gloves. Just a tiny, nearly-empty bottle of hand sanitizer she carried in her purse. 

She dropped her phone onto the bed and walked to the closet, putting on one of the warm hotel robes over her pajamas. When she went into the living room, she saw that Villanelle was no longer on the couch. The blankets were strewn about as if she had gotten up in a rush. 

Had she left the hotel? Just up and left without saying goodbye?

She looked around and saw Villanelle’s suitcase, up against the wall. Relief. She then saw movement on the balcony. 

Villanelle was out there, talking to someone on the phone. 

Eve plopped onto the chair next to the couch, and through the sliding door, Eve thought she heard Villanelle yell a string of profanities, along with the name Konstantin. 

Villanelle shook her head and then slammed her phone onto the balcony railing, leaving it there. She slid open the balcony door and came into the living room. “They fucked us over, Eve.”

“Over and under _and_ sideways,” Eve said. “Good morning.”

Villanelle began pacing back and forth in front of the couch. “They knew this could happen. And they just sent us here. Our handlers are the worst.”

“Can’t argue with that. And, now we’re stuck.”

“Well,” Villanelle stopped pacing and looked at Eve. “There is always an escape, if I want it badly enough.”

“There’s no way to get home right now. I checked.”

“If you say so, Eve.”

Eve ignored the doubt in Villanelle’s voice, and continued. “We could even be sick already and not know it.” She put a hand to her own forehead, suddenly nervous. 

“Oh no,” Villanelle said, her eyes wide. “Should we stay away from each other then?”

Eve couldn’t tell if Villanelle was mocking her, but she answered anyway, shrugging. “It’s probably a moot point by now.”

Villanelle sat on the sofa and leaned forward, resting her elbows on her thighs. “You are right. At least we are together during all this.”

“That’s not really what I said.”

“Oh, do you want me to leave, then? I could look into getting a separate room.”

Godammit. Villanelle was going to make her admit it.

“No,” Eve said, quietly. And quickly.

Villanelle leaned back into the sofa and slowly bit her bottom lip, looking pleased with herself. “See, that wasn’t so hard to say.”

“Well, it would blow our cover,” Eve added. “I mean, if you left.” She was referring to the mission. The mission they both knew was no longer on, really.

“Sure, Eve.”

They sat together, in silence for a few moments. 

“So,” Villanelle continued. “It looks like we will be roommates together for awhile.”

“Apparently so.”

“You should know that I will need to masturbate now and then. I will do it in the shower if you don’t want me to do it on the sofa. Unless you have somewhere else you would prefer.”

Eve had no response to that. After a beat, she realized Villanelle was looking at her expectantly, eyebrows raised.

“Oh,” she said, finally. “Um, yes please. I mean, the shower would be fine?”

**xxx**

  
  


Waiting for breakfast to arrive, Eve sat at the bar in the suite ordering “necessities” from the Internet and sipping some of the champagne from a coffee mug. Fuck Carolyn, she thought, as she placed an order for a few frozen deep dish pizzas directly from Chicago, macaroons from Paris, and some coffee beans and chocolates from Vienna. And yes, also some puzzles.

“Room service,” called a voice from outside their room. 

Villanelle walked toward the door-

“Wait!” Eve shouted.

Villanelle stopped just as her hand reached for the doorknob.

“Shouldn’t they just, maybe, I don’t know? Leave the food outside the door and walk away so we don’t actually interact? You know, the virus.”

Eve watched as Villanelle, smiled, reached the door, and turned the handle. 

“Villanelle!” she yelled.

Villanelle leaned forward and picked up the tray of food from a cart and brought it inside their room, kicking the door with her heel, behind her. 

“Eve. No need to yell. When I placed the order, they said it would be a no-contact delivery.”

Villanelle placed the food on the bar. Eggs and potatoes for her, and oatmeal with fresh fruit for Eve. Coffee for both. 

“Oh” Eve said, quietly. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Villanelle said. “Cheers.” She held up her coffee cup.

Eve clanked it with her mug of champagne. “Cheers,” she mustered out, before taking a large drink of it. They began eating in silence.

Then, Villanelle asked, “Do you often drink alcohol first thing in the morning?”

“There’s a pandemic. It’s fine.”

Villanelle made a sound like, “Hmm.”

“What?” Eve said. “Are you really judging me right now?”

Villanelle laughed. “I’m not judging. Just, are you worried about Moustache or something? Do you need to call him, even though.”

Eve looked up from her oatmeal. “Even though what?”

“You are separated.” Villanelle looked directly into Eve’s eyes.

Niko had moved out a month ago. Eve just hadn’t told anyone yet. Villanelle just knew.

“I want him to be okay,” Eve said. “But no. I don’t need to call him.”

Villanelle looked pleased, and ate another bite of her eggs. After a few moments, she said. “This is nice. Being here.”

“Is it?”

“Eve,” Villanelle said, an annoyed tone in her voice. ”Don’t look a gift horse in the mouth.”


	2. Chapter 2

**xx Day Four xx**

“‘In these unprecedented times.’ Why does every email start with that now?” Eve said, scrolling through her inbox. “Get over yourselves. As if everyone’s been waiting with bated breath to learn how Candles ‘N More is responding to a worldwide pandemic.”

They sat on the balcony drinking coffee made from the beans that had shipped from Vienna. It was a pleasant day. Blue sky and sunny. The streets below were mostly empty, although every now and then someone wearing a mask would walk by. A delivery person. Someone walking a dog. A police officer. 

“They are just trying to be reassuring. These companies,” Villanelle said. “That they have a plan. That everything is fine and will go back to normal soon, so please keep buying more things.” She gestured at Eve. “ _You_ are buying things. _I_ am buying things.”

“Okay?” Eve said, but she let the issue go. She looked up from her phone and out at the street. “God, it’s so eerie down there. Like an apocalypse movie, but with neverending stacks of dishes to do.”

On the table between them was a puzzle they had started the previous day. It wasn’t very far along. One side of the border was finished, along with a few clumps here and there off to the side. 

“Eve, come on. Do this jigsaw puzzle with me. You keep looking at your phone or at the street. It’s not fair if I do all the work.”

The puzzle was a photo of all different kinds of dogs together as if in a family portrait, their mouths open as if smiling, their tongues lolling out as if grotesque murder victims. Eve had no particular attachment to the puzzle when she bought it. It had simply come up as one of the first options available when she had run a search. 

Eve started poking at the puzzle pieces, finding it hard to concentrate, but wanting to find a fit.

“Things aren’t going to be normal again, you know,” Villanelle said. “You should start preparing yourself for that.”

“Sure they will. Eventually.”

“Take the emails. All of these things people are saying. ‘In these unprecedented times,’” Villanelle said. She stopped, and looked satisfied with herself for connecting two puzzle pieces together. “They will start to lose meaning, simply because they are repeated so much. Meanwhile, the body count of this pandemic will rise and soon it will be too much for many people to process. Eventually the toll, and all of these changes to our lives, will simply become part of everyone’s regular life. People will become accustomed to it all without even fully realizing it.”

“Villanelle, there are only a hundred or so cases here. Surely, you don’t think-”

“Give it a week. Give it a month.”

“What makes you so sure?” But, even as she asked, she already knew. Villanelle was a master at reading situations. She was far from the reckless, stupid woman many people, especially her targets, assumed her to be.

“The world has already changed, forever,” Villanelle said. “And so has everyone in it. Most people just don’t realize it yet.”

“Well, that’s depressing as fuck,” Eve said. “I hope you’re wrong.”

“That’s your problem, Eve. You still hope.”

“Okay. Wow.”

“I’ve upset you,” Villanelle said. She put a hand at Eve’s elbow. 

“No,” Eve said, overly-conscious of Villanelle’s touch. “Yes. I mean. It’s an upsetting situation.”

“I know,” Villanelle said. “If you want, I could order you a vibrator or something.”

  
  


**xx Day Six or Seven xx**

  
  


One afternoon, (Eve was already starting to lose count) some boxes arrived. 

She was in the living room attempting to do a yoga video from her phone, and got distracted when Villanelle brought packages in from the hall and started opening them.

As she tried to hold _navasana_ , Villanelle began pulling decadent pieces of clothing out one by one and holding them up to admire. A red nightgown. A woman’s nice pajama set, black. Multiple pairs of pants that somehow looked both professional and comfortable enough for jogging. Yoga pants. Two pairs of leather slippers. Soft-looking tank tops. Some lounge sweaters and pullovers in black and gray. Underwear.

Eve’s pose kept falling lower and lower to the ground, as she watched Villanelle separate the clothing into two separate piles.

“Eve, I bought us some clothes. We can’t keep wearing these same five outfits. Or, in your case, two. I didn’t order you any bras because I noticed you haven’t been wearing one. If you put these things in the washing machine, I will order us lunch.”

“Uh, okay. I’m sort of in the middle of yoga right now.”

“No, you’re not.” Villanelle craned her neck. “What is that pose? Suntanning on the beach?”

Eve looked down at herself. She was basically just lying on her back, at this point, with her elbows propping her up, as if, yes, suntanning.

“Fine,” she said, rolling her eyes and getting up from the floor. She walked over to where Villanelle had finished neatly folding the clothes. “Asshole.”

“You’re welcome.”

Eve ran her hand over the fabric of one of the shirts. They were exquisite. They looked nice, but also comfortable. Eve knew everything would be perfectly sized. 

“It’s mostly lounge wear,” Villanelle said. “But, it’s not like we’re going anywhere.”

Eve picked up the clothes and carried them to the washing machine, grateful that their suite had one. She called over to Villanelle again, as she began to fill the washing machine. “We were only supposed to be here for two days and one night, you know.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“What I mean is, that’s why I only packed two outfits.”

“It’s okay, Eve,” Villanelle said. “When you’re done with that, why don’t you put on the _Tiger King_ where we left off, and I’ll order those caprese salads for lunch.”

  
  


**xx Day Eight xx**

  
  


Eve woke up thinking about what it might be like to kiss Villanelle. Not just wondering but, maybe, wanting to. 

Shit shit shit. Goddamn.

She picked up her phone and browsed her contacts. Eve didn’t have many close friends. Most of the people who had passed through her life over the years were work people. Looking at her phone, her finger hovered over Jess’s name, and then she typed out a simple message and pressed send: 

_“Help”_

After a couple of minutes, her phone rang.

“Took you long enough,” Eve said, picking it up.

“Are you okay? What is it?” Jess said, on the line. She sounded breathless. “Is Villanelle trying to kill you?”

“Yeah. No. She’s not. I’m sorry. Do you have a minute?” 

“Eve, what is it? Also, we’re locked down. So yeah, I do have a minute. I have all the minutes.”

“Okay. I just. Hold on.” Eve stopped talking, removed the phone from her ear, and listened. She heard jumping noises in the living room, and then Jess’s tiny voice coming from her phone. 

“What is it, Eve? Speak up.”

“Sorry,” Eve said, putting the phone back to her ear. “She’s in the living room doing this Russian workout she does in the mornings. She bought a pull-up bar and everything.”

“Okay. So she’s not trying to kill you. We’ve established that, right? So, is it, er, more that you’re maybe thinking of killing her?”

“No!”

Jess waited. 

“Okay,” Eve started. “I’ve just been. I’ve started having these thoughts."

Eve was met with more silence on the line. “Jess? Are you there?”

“I’m here.” She sounded irritated.

Still, Eve continued. “Okay. So, everyone knows I have this, this expertise in, or sort of preoccupation maybe, with female assassins-”

“You mean obsession. And it’s not with ‘female assassins,’ it’s with one in particular. But, do go on.”

“I wouldn’t call it an obsession, really-”

“Oh God, you’ve shagged her, haven’t you?”

“What? No.” Eve said. She realized she had just yelled, so she lowered her voice again. “No. It’s not that I want to have sex with her. I just think I’m, I don’t know. Really intrigued. Or fascinated. Or, maybe, I would say mesmerized by Villanelle’s mind, and-”

“Eve.”

“Okay, fine,” she said. “Jesus.”

More silence on the line.

“So I’ve had the occasional dream about kissing her,” Eve said. She then quickly added. “And maybe even more.” _Occasional._ Good one. And did fantasies one had when awake count as dreams, technically?

“Okay,” Jess said. “So there you go.”

“But, don’t you think all that could just be my subconscious trying to tell me something?”

“Yes! It’s screaming at you through a bullhorn to shag her. God, Eve. You are truly the last person to figure this out about yourself, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

“You are brilliant, but this air of clinical detachment toward Villanelle that you always try to put on? It’s never been convincing. To literally anyone, I’m sorry to say.”

“I’m not saying I’m,” Eve started. “I just. I don’t know what I am. I guess.”

“Look, the world has changed a lot, Eve.” Jess’s tone softened. “If you are bisexual or whatever, that’s fine. I’ll help you set up a Tinder account when this pandemic is over. You don’t have to figure yourself out with a serial killer.”

“She’s not a serial killer.”

“You’re really going to be pedantic about it, are you?”

“No, I mean. I don’t know if it’s even real,” Eve said.

She wasn’t articulating anything very well, and she knew it. She and Villanelle simply shared a fantasy world, together, that continually teetered between chase and betrayal. Or, Eve thought they shared something. Whenever Eve tried to think about it rationally, she considered that it was also possible that everything she was feeling was delusional and that Villanelle might be stringing her along for her own demented amusement.

It was maddening. But, how could she possibly explain that to a colleague and retain whatever credibility she had left?

“Eve, I’m not sure what to tell you,” Jess said, sounding tired. “Villanelle would not be my first choice for you. Or, like, the 500th. But, you’re sort of trapped with her. So, I guess I would say, just don’t do anything that’s going to make either of you go apeshit, okay?”

Eve sighed. “I know.”

“But I’m really glad you’re starting to have some self-awareness. Good on you!”

“Thanks,” Eve said, feeling glum. “Anyway. How are you doing? I mean, with the lockdown and everything.”

“Eve, you don’t have to pretend to be interested. I know you’ll just be thinking about Villanelle the whole time.”

“Okay. Thanks.”

After they hung up, Eve stayed in bed staring at the ceiling, feeling like an asshole.

She imagined how things between her and Villanelle might have ended up differently if she had just let Villanelle kiss her that day in the Paris apartment. If she had never grabbed that knife. If she had never pressed it into Villanelle’s flesh. If she had simply dropped it onto the floor, instead. 

Eve rolled onto her side, trying to shake the memory from her head. She looked at the time on her phone. She should check in with Carolyn. 

Soon, Villanelle would be done with her workout, and then they would have breakfast and coffee on the balcony.

**xxx**

  
  


“Just do it, Eve,” Villanelle said, coaxing Eve along, as they stood on the balcony, later that day.

Eve took a deep breath, held it for a few counts, and then released a primal yell down toward the streets below, followed by a succession of, “Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. FUCK. FUCK. MOTHER. FUCKERRRR!” Eve stopped, and stepped back from the railing, her fists clenching and unclenching.

After a few moments, Villanelle asked, “Feel better?” 

Eve nodded.

“Good, now my turn,” Villanelle said, before taking a turn yelling at the top of her lungs for a good ten seconds. She caught her breath and then said, “Sometimes you just have to get it out, you know? Reset things in here.” She pointed at her head.

“It’s invigorating, really,” Eve said. 

The news that morning had not been good. Hospitalizations way up. Over capacity, really. The virus was also spreading throughout the world, with more national lockdowns in place. Eve found it scary and, in large part, incredibly sad. No treatment. No vaccine. Country after country responding too late, despite plenty of warning.

“Yeah. You want to do it again?” Villanelle asked.

Eve nodded, but from inside their suite, the landline rang.

“I’ll get it,” Villanelle said, walking into the room. 

Eve followed her and watched as she picked up the phone.

“Hello?” Villanelle said, in her American accent. “No. No, everything’s fine, Carlo.” A pause, while Villanelle listened. “We are just letting off steam. Our country is a mess, you know. We can’t go back there anytime soon.” She paused, listening. “No offense taken. Yes, he’s a complete moron. We didn’t vote for him.” Another pause. “Thank you, Carlo. We’re grateful for your hospitality. Bye-bye.”

Villanelle hung up and rolled her eyes. “What an idiot,” she said. “He was about to call the police because he thought we were being raped or murdered or something in here.”

Eve let that sink in for a minute and then out a laugh. 

Villanelle eyed her and then joined in. Within minutes, they both found themselves laughing hysterically, manically, and unable to stop.

**xx Day Ten xx**

Eve woke up. Not really with a start, but just a realization that she had fallen asleep sitting on the floor, with her back resting against the sofa. The television set was still flickering. They had been watching Netflix, with Villanelle behind her on the sofa. They were making their way through the _American Horror Story_ series and an episode from the _Asylum_ season was playing. 

Eve felt a gentle pull on the back of her head, as if someone was, yes, maybe playing with her hair? Had Villanelle started touching her? Eve tried to keep her breathing calm. She didn’t know if she should move away, or just sort of let it keep happening. She didn’t _not_ want it to happen, necessarily. 

But then, the sensation stopped. Had she imagined it?

“Do you want me to go back, Eve?”

Eve took a breath, and adjusted the blanket that was on her lap. 

“The show,” Villanelle said. “You fell asleep and missed a really good part. I’m not impressed by this Bloody Face killer, but I do like this Jessica Lange. All of the inmates were dancing crazy to ‘The Name Game.’ It was hilarious. Let me rewind.”

“Sure,” Eve said, shifting her numb ass on the floor. She should probably just go to bed, but what was the point, really. Without the structure of work, time was stretching out in a way that was increasingly disorienting. 

“And your hair?” Eve asked. “Is it okay if I keep touching it? It is very soft.”

Eve decided she didn’t mind it, actually. “Sure?” Eve said. She rolled her eyes at herself, feeling like a dork. She knew Villanelle didn’t completely understand people who were not as direct as her, which was most people, really, including Eve.

Villanelle rewound the show and then started running her fingers through Eve’s hair. Eve tried to pay attention to the show, but the feeling was pleasant. Soon, she was closing her eyes again, resting her head against the sofa, lulled into a nice, calm place. 

She was aware only of Villanelle and, more specifically, her fingers working and the position of Villanelle’s body behind her on the sofa, her legs sort of curled under her, so that Eve could lean directly against the sofa. 

Then, Villanelle turned the volume down on the television. “You know what is sort of annoying?”

Eve opened her eyes, and after a beat responded, “How each season of the show uses the same actors but they’re supposed to be completely different characters living in completely different time periods?”

“I like that part, actually.”

“You would.”

“What I was going to say, though,” Villanelle started. “Is that it’s annoying how straight women always just assume lesbians want to have sex with them.”

Eve opened her eyes, and frowned. “Okay?”

“I usually do want to have sex with them,” Villanelle said. “But, it’s still annoying that they just assume.”

“So, you’re mad that they’re right about you?”

“It’s annoying because you want to know something, Eve?”

“Sure.”

“I think straight women are just as intrigued by lesbians as we are of them. If not moreso.” 

Eve wasn’t sure what to say, so she gave a half-hearted shrug. 

Villanelle pulled on Eve’s hair a bit harder, and then her voice adopted that sort of bratty tone she took when she wanted something. “What do you _think?_ ” 

“Sure? I don’t know. I haven’t really thought about it.”

Villanelle laughed. She tested a massage at Eve’s scalp, with her fingertips, and when Eve closed her eyes again, Villanelle stayed there, massaging. 

“Are you always this emotionally distant?” Villanelle asked. “Because I have to say, it’s not very impressive.”

“Since when do I care about impressing you.” Eve moved her head, so that she was out of Villanelle’s reach.

Villanelle gave a small chuckle. “Since when do you _not_ care?”

“Well, at least you’re humble.”

“Okay, Eve. I’ll play this game with you. What do you care about, then? If not my opinion of you.” 

“What do _you_ care about? When you strip away the characters and costumes and accents?” Eve half-turned her head, as if trying to look at Villanelle, behind her. 

“I asked you first,” Villanelle said. She tested soft fingers at Eve’s hair again. “Do you still think about me all the time?” 

Eve moved into her touch, despite being massively annoyed.

“Mmm,” Villanelle said. “You like being wanted. By men. By anyone, really. But especially by me.”

“You use sex to disassociate,” Eve said, trying to shift into analyst mode. “You use it to feel something, any kind of emotion, but without having to actually be present with the person you’re fucking.” Eve hadn’t been expecting to blurt that insight out, but she felt a need to strike back. She wasn’t proud of the impulse.

Villanelle’s fingers stopped for a brief instant, but then she kept pulling and caressing. “And you were always ‘present’ with Moustache when you were having sex with him? Or when you were flirting with that stupid little Oxford man?”

Touché.

Eve said nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” Villanelle said.

Eve could hear the satisfaction in her voice. She pulled away from Villanelle, feeling angry and undone and confused and tired. And, it was all so much worse because there was no escape from it. Not now. Not tomorrow. Not anytime soon.

“I can’t do this tonight.” Eve stood, smoothing her nice, new pajama bottoms, and turned to face Villanelle on the sofa.

“Hey, do you have a knife in your pocket again,” Villanelle raised an eyebrow, and put her hands up. “Or are you just happy to see me?”

“I’ll see you in the morning, Villanelle.” Eve shook her head, angry, and not entirely sure why, before turning toward the bedroom.

“Whatever, Eve.”

**xx Day Eleven xx**

  
  


Eve woke up the next morning once again thinking about kissing Villanelle. She sat up and put her head in her hands. She had fallen asleep ruminating about Villanelle’s words the night before, and now she was having this impulse again. 

_Fuck fuck fuck._

She took a few deep breaths and then walked to the closet, putting on a robe and sliding her feet into her slippers. She looked around the living room and didn’t see Villanelle. The bathroom door was ajar, so Eve made her way there. 

Eve could hear Duran Duran’s “Ordinary World” playing in the bathroom, and Villanelle humming along. She held her hand up to knock, but changed her mind and just pushed the door open.

Villanelle’s back was to the door, but upon hearing it open, she twirled to face Eve. One of the large, soft hotel towels was wrapped around her body and another was on top of her head, wound around her hair. She was brushing her teeth.

“Geez, Eve,” Villanelle said, pulling the toothbrush from her mouth, which was full of toothpaste. “Do you have to pee or something?” She frowned, and gestured toward the toilet as if to say, _Be my guest._

Eve just stood in the doorway, her mouth open, not speaking. One hand was at her side and the other was still raised after pushing the door open, almost as if half-heartedly reaching toward Villanelle. Her adrenaline was pumping, but she had bypassed fight or flight and was stuck at freeze. She must have looked catatonic.

Villanelle shrugged. ”Okay, be weird. Whatever floats your boat.” She turned back toward the mirror, spit toothpaste into the basin of the sink, and rinsed her mouth with water. 

When Villanelle turned back around, Eve’s adrenaline kicked up a notch and she stepped forward, putting a hand at her waist. Villanelle’s breath hitched, ever-so-slightly. Eve could smell mint, along with the soap Villanelle had used in the shower. It smelled amazing. Clean. Subtle. Slightly like something a man might use.

She looked into Villanelle’s large hazel eyes. The pupils were slightly dilated. The initial shock that had passed over Villanelle’s face for the briefest instant was gone, having been replaced with a realization.

“You’re not here to pee,” Villanelle said.

“No,” Eve said, quietly, with a single shake of the head. She felt calm now. A sort of calm that was like standing in the eye of a hurricane.

Eve leaned forward, slightly tugging on the towel around Villanelle’s body, pulling her closer and, before she could overthink it or analyze it or talk herself out of it, she kissed Villanelle directly on the lips. She stayed like that, just making contact. She hadn’t fully thought out what she would do past that point.

Villanelle's lips were soft. Softer than expected. And yielding. In a pleasant way. In a way that Eve felt travel from her lips, down to her belly. In a way that made her lose her bearings and feel rage and maybe want to devour this woman, but also in a way that fit and felt contained and made sense. 

Before Eve could fully process that Villanelle hadn’t begun kissing her back, Villanelle suddenly was. She softly bit Eve’s lower lip, before using her tongue to open Eve’s mouth wider. 

Eve wrapped her arms around Villanelle’s neck, simply giving in and letting Villanelle lead and kiss her more deeply and with more urgency. As their bodies connected, she noticed more things. For one, Villanelle’s skin was still warm from the shower, and slightly damp in the way skin often was in a still-steamy bathroom.

For another, the towel Villanelle had wrapped around her body was very, very short. It would be easy, so easy, to slip a hand underneath it. And, Eve wanted to. She knew instinctively and precisely what she would do under there. Villanelle would probably let her, wouldn’t she? Would that be too fast?

With Niko, it would have been simple, if rote. Not necessarily bad, even. But, with a woman? With _Villanelle?_ Could she really just-

Villanelle put her hands at Eve’s waist and firmly guided Eve back up against one of the bathroom walls. As she kissed Eve, her hands untied the soft belt holding Eve’s robe closed. She didn’t tear the robe off, though, just sort of let it fall open, exposing Eve’s pajamas underneath. She moved her hands back to Eve’s waist, but under her shirt this time, making contact with her skin.

Then, Villanelle’s mouth worked more slowly, even pulling away for an instant, teasing. 

Eve pulled her back in, hungrily seeking her lips. When she did, she could feel Villanelle smiling into her mouth, knowingly, gloatingly. The bastard. Everything she had said and implied last night had been true.

She stepped forward, pushing Villanelle back, so that she was up against the sink. Then, she stopped kissing Villanelle and instead bit her on the neck, hard. Villanelle moaned and then let out a yell, in pain. 

“Ow!”

Eve pulled away, her heart racing.

Villanelle touched her neck where Eve had bitten and looked at her hand to see if there was blood. There wasn’t. She looked at Eve, then, as if considering her next move. 

It could really go in a hundred different directions.

Villanelle stood to her full height and took a step toward Eve, but Eve stopped her, putting a hand at her chest. 

Eve then moved her other hand to the towel around Villanelle’s head and unwound it. She let the towel drop to the floor and watched as Villanelle’s hair fell around her shoulders. Little streamlets of water trickled down Villanelle’s neck, onto her chest, where they were sopped up by the towel that was still around her body. 

Eve traced one of the lines of water down her neck, to the top of her chest, and then she slowly, slowly moved a finger upward to Villanelle’s mouth.

Making eye contact with Eve, Villanelle found Eve’s index finger. She first licked it and then sucked it. Her mouth was warm and wet and Eve wanted more of it in more places on her body, and she felt certain that Villanelle wanted to give her that. 

Yet, when Villanelle was done, she simply took hold of Eve’s hand with her own, interlaced their fingers, and held their hands between them. 

Eve could feel Villanelle breathing in and out. She saw her chest rise and fall. Eve breathed with her. 

They eyed each other, as if in challenge. Or, maybe that wasn’t quite right. There was a sizing up happening. As if Eve wasn’t just trying to figure Villanelle out, she was watching Villanelle try to figure her out as well. And, in that space, she sensed a shared acknowledgement that the dance had just gotten real. Or, more precisely, that it had been real all along, and they were instantly assessing and reassessing how their dynamic had changed and how it might work, going forward. 

Somehow, Eve shifted out of Villanelle’s grip, and simply looked up at Villanelle. 

Villanelle’s face was flushed, and she looked tentative, vulnerable. Eve felt a brief flash of pride, but then quickly realized she probably had the exact same look on her own face.

Eve took a breath, and then spoke.

“I had to know.” 

“Well, Eve Polastri,” Villanelle said. She stood her ground, not lunging or groping for Eve. Just standing there, with perfect control. “Now you know.”

Eve gave a slight nod of the head and, without another word, turned and left the bathroom.

**xxx**


	3. Chapter 3

Later that afternoon, after lunch, they sat at the bar and worked on a puzzle together. This one was of a whole bunch of cats gathered around a globe while wearing attire from different countries. It was pretty stereotypical garb, too, and at least mildly offensive in several cases. But, apparently, there was a run on puzzles.

“Eve, are you a cat person or a dog person?” Villanelle asked, as her fingertips moved different pieces around the table. 

After their kiss, they had sort of kept their distance from one another as much as they could in a shared suite, keeping their conversations casual. Then, when Eve had sat down at the bar to work on the puzzle, Villanelle eventually joined her. 

Now, Eve watched Villanelle’s hands and fingers move around the table. It was distracting, really. 

Firstly, she disagreed with Villanelle’s nonlinear puzzle strategy of just putting together random pieces as she found them (everyone knows you complete the border first and then the interior, by color and/or pattern), but she had let that battle go during the dog puzzle.

Secondly, she kept moving her fingers to the spot of purple that was already visible at her neck, from earlier in the morning. 

“I don’t know,” Eve said, finally. “Does a person really have to be one or the other?” She took a sip of her wine. 

“I suppose not,” Villanelle said, shrugging. “Isn’t that just something people ask when they want to get to know someone better?”

“Okay,” Eve said, suddenly visualizing Villanelle googling “socially-awkward assassin’s guide for socializing” and finding it bizarrely endearing. “I think I’m neither.”

“You don’t like cats _or_ dogs?” Villanelle sounded alarmed. 

“Not really. No.”

“What are you, a monster?”

Eve looked at Villanelle with a raised eyebrow. “Seriously?” 

Villanelle didn’t respond, but smiled in that way she did when she was just giving Eve shit. 

“Asshole,” Eve said.

They worked on the puzzle in silence for a few more minutes. 

“Eve, don’t you want to ask me anything?”

Only just about everything. But, the revelations, the honesty, would have to be done in small doses. At least for Eve.

Besides, Eve knew a lot of things already, or could easily make inferences that turned out to be correct. Villanelle wouldn’t be a dog or a cat person, either, for instance. Her life simply didn’t accommodate animals, so she would have never bothered to think much about getting a pet. 

Still, Eve didn’t necessarily want Villanelle to know that she thought about these sorts of details. Like, all the fucking time. 

“Sure,” Eve said. She would start small. She gestured at the glass of water in front of Villanelle. “You don’t really drink much, do you? I mean, alcohol. Yet, the fridge in your apartment was full of champagne.”

“I keep my apartment well-stocked for friends,” Villanelle said.

“You mean fuck buddies?” As if Villanelle had friends.

“Eve, don’t be jealous,” Villanelle said, half-smiling. Before Eve could respond to that, Villanelle continued. “I like how drinking makes me feel in the moment, probably too much. But, the next day is not so good.”

“Everyone gets hangovers.”

“Not like I do. On most days, I feel nothing inside. If I drink, it is a good time. But then the next day, it is so much darker. Like, a hundred times nothing.”

“Shit,” Eve said. She thought about reaching for Villanelle’s hand, but thought better of it. Instead, she went the analyst route. “It makes sense. Alcohol is a depressant. It often worsens mental health-” Eve stopped and looked up at Villanelle, who raised an eyebrow. “Mental health conditions,” Eve continued. 

“Yes, I’m aware,” Villanelle said. “Hangxiety is a bitch. What else do you want to know?”

Eve folded her hands together. Her fingers still instinctively went to the wedding ring. Or, to her empty finger, since she no longer wore the one from Niko. 

“Do you think you will ever get married?” So much for starting small.

“Geez, you move fast, Eve. You don’t even know if we click in the bedroom yet. Or the kitchen. Or the bar.” She did that thing where she bit her bottom lip when she was being annoying as fuck. But also hot. Damn her. 

“Don’t be a dick.” Although, truth be told, Eve found the directness thrilling.

“Never.”

“You’re a dick all the time, Villanelle.”

“No, I mean, I will never marry.”

“Okay. You seem pretty sure about that.” 

In her perpetual quest to determine whether Villanelle was truly a psychopath, Eve wondered which answer a psychopath was more likely to give. An affirmative, under the assumption that Eve would want her to say yes and would therefore reward her with sex for giving the “correct,” mainstream response. Or no, because she was an unreliable narrator and would, most likely, have at least a few failed, impulsive marriages even if she couldn’t fathom doing so now.

“I am sure about it,” Villanelle said. “Although, maybe a harem is the way to go, like all of these strange tiger people. And stop overthinking it. I know what you’re doing, you know. I am not a lab rat.”

“What do you mean?” But, as Eve said it, she knew she was still doing it. Wondering. Connecting red strings on the bulletin board in her head of Villanelle’s habits and methods and thought processes. Mentally prying.

Even now, called out, she wanted to delve further and ask about Anna. _The most serious relationship._ But, broaching anything having to do with Villanelle’s ex would only elicit more teasing, so-

“I thought I wanted to be with Anna forever,” Villanelle said. “That’s what you’re wondering, isn’t it, sitting there so quietly?”

“No,” Eve said. And then, “Yes.”

“Well,” Villanelle said. “That didn’t work out.”

“Now that’s a funny way of putting what happened.”

“I wasn’t trying to be funny,” Villanelle said. Then, Villanelle asked, “What about you, Eve? Would you ever get married again?”

“I thought I was asking you the questions now.”

“This is going to be a give and take.”

“Fine. I am still married, you know. Technically.”

“Of course, of course,” Villanelle said in a mocking tone, nodding and giving a look that said she didn’t give a single solitary fuck if Eve Polastri was still “married, technically.”

“Okay,” Eve said. Her hand fiddled with the stem of her wine glass. “Honestly. It’s hard to say. But, I doubt it. It just didn’t really suit me. With my work. And, everything.”

“Of course it didn’t suit you. You married the wrong person.”

Ouch.

“I’m sorry Eve, but it’s true.”

It was, and Eve knew it. She also knew Villanelle wasn’t the least bit sorry.

“People like us can pretend to be normal to some of the people some of the time, but never to all of the people all of the time,” Villanelle said. 

“That’s. Sure,” Eve said, shaking her head. “Did Benjamin Franklin say that or something?” 

“He figured you out, didn’t he? Your husband.”

Eve shook her head, picked up her wine glass, and stood. “I’m not doing this.”

“Where are you going?” Villanelle asked. “I thought we were working on this puzzle. I thought we were talking."

“I’m going to get some air.”

“Eve, don’t be like that. Don’t run away all the time.” Her voice had a tinge of anger.

“I’m not running,” Eve said, gesturing around the room. “There’s nowhere to run” 

“You’re right,” Villanelle said, standing up too. “There’s not.”

Eve’s heart raced, but she rolled her eyes and turned toward the balcony. She walked to it and slid the screen door open, hearing Villanelle’s footsteps behind her. She stepped onto the balcony, finished her wine, and placed the glass on the railing.

Sure enough, Villanelle was there, right behind her. “Stop running.” She put her hands at Eve’s waist. 

“I’m not like you,” Eve said. She thought briefly of peeling Villanelle’s hands off of her, but she didn’t. Instead, she felt herself melting into Villanelle’s touch. She wanted to run. She wanted to jump. It also felt like home.

“You don’t have to pretend with me,” Villanelle whispered, into Eve’s ear. “I know what you are.”

Eve’s breath hitched and she pressed herself slightly back, into Villanelle’s body. She could feel Villanelle standing there, firmly, breasts pressing into her.

“Does this scare you, Eve?” 

“Yes,” Eve said. “And no.”

“Why are you scared?”

“I don’t know.”

“I think you do,” Villanelle said. She bit Eve’s earlobe and licked her neck. 

Eve felt a shiver run through her spine. She moved to turn around, but Villanelle held her firmly in place. 

“No. Stay where you are,” Villanelle said. “You are scared because you see too much of yourself in me.” 

Godammit.

Villanelle continued. “When you pushed the knife into my body, here-” Villanelle pressed her hand into Eve’s waist, on her left side, in the identical spot where Eve had stabbed her. “You did it because you wanted to see what it would be like. To do what I do. To watch someone die and to be the cause of it.”

“I didn’t want to kill you,” Eve whispered.

“You _did_ want to, though.”

Eve licked her lips. “And then I didn’t.”

“When you slid the knife in, you remembered that death is permanent. Not something you can take back. That is what excites you about it. And I know this because that is how I feel, too. To end a life is the ultimate power."

With one hand, Villanelle knocked Eve’s wine glass over the balcony railing, as if in anger. It made a loud crash on the street below. She then took hold of Eve’s wrist, hard, and slid her other hand down Eve’s pants, over her underwear. 

Eve inhaled sharply, and then calmed her voice. “I didn’t want you to not be in this world,” she said. “I knew instantly I had made a mistake.”

“Yes. It was a very big mistake,” Villanelle said. She gripped Eve’s wrist more tightly. “And yet it makes you wet just thinking about it. The same way it does when you think about me doing my job. And when you put the pictures on your little bulletin board at work and give your PowerPoint presentations about me.”

Eve opened her eyes. This was madness. 

She could sense Villanelle’s fingers down her pants, hovering, poised to touch her. “Anyone could see us up here,” Eve whispered.

Maybe. Maybe not. Either way, it wouldn’t be hard for people on the street to figure out what they were up to. Not that she cared.

“I don’t care, and you don’t either,” Villanelle said. “So don’t change the subject.” She ran her hand across Eve’s inner thigh, and then up and underneath Eve’s underwear. She tested her middle finger just barely, barely into Eve, pulled out, and let out a small sound of satisfaction. “I knew it. You have been wet all day. And probably for this whole trip.”

Eve let out a small sigh. She rocked her hips slightly forward, seeking the contact of Villanelle’s fingers, which evaded her. 

“Admit it,” Villanelle said, holding Eve in place, with her finger poised above Eve’s clit.

“So have you,” Eve said. It was an answer. Sort of.

“Of course I have,” Villanelle said, with an easy laugh, as if it were 100% impossible for her to feel shame. “I want _you_ to say it, though.”

Eve took a breath and closed her eyes. It was her deepest secret. The one every defense mechanism in her brain had worked impossibly hard to conceal, even from herself, for years. She had something much bigger in common with Villanelle than a shared attraction to women. 

“Yes,” Eve said, finally. She opened her eyes. “Yes.”

“Good girl,” Villanelle whispered, smiling into Eve’s neck. She dipped a finger into Eve’s wetness again and slid it up to her clit, where she began making slow, expert circles. 

“Oh God,” Eve said. It was good. Villanelle knew what she was doing. She was not just full of empty bluster. Eve knew that immediately. 

Villanelle nipped at her neck, as she continued rubbing, and talked softly into Eve’s ear. “I’ve thought about touching you like this for a long time. When I masturbate. When I’ve had sex with other women. That’s why you should not be jealous.” She dipped inside Eve for a few strokes, and then resumed rubbing her clit. 

It was crazed logic, of course. Eve wondered if she felt jealous at the mention of the other women, and decided she probably would later, but that it didn’t matter right now. Besides, she had done the same thing, when sleeping with Niko. 

Villanelle reached up Eve’s shirt with her free hand, her fingertips circling, and then gently pulling on a nipple. 

Fuck. “I need,” Eve started.

“What do you need, Eve?” Villanelle slid a finger inside Eve, and then another. “To be on top?”

Well, yes. That would be ideal. And, had she ever had an orgasm standing up, by the way? Was it possible? Would her knees buckle under, or could Villanelle hold her up with just the one hand?

“Do you ever stop thinking and just let yourself enjoy things?” Villanelle asked. She pulled her fingers out of Eve, pinched her inner thigh, and then pressed into her clit again, this time harder. “Stay in the moment and let me take care of you.”

It hurt, for a moment, but then, in a good way. 

Villanelle fucked her like that, easing up, pressing harder, going around in circles, bringing Eve to the edge of orgasm, only to let up just as Eve was about to come. 

She played Eve like a piano. A piano that she might, say, deconstruct at some point and find inventive, new uses for the component hammers, strings, and keys. She was a virtuoso, masterfully attentive to detail, seeming to enjoy the various sounds, movements, and words she could provoke. 

But, then again, she would be. 

And, Eve was happy to oblige. She looked down onto the streets of Rome below, while Villanelle touched her, without really even seeing what was down there, aware only of Villanelle moving behind her, inside her, over her. 

It was Villanelle’s job to understand people. What got under their skin. What made them tick. What made them-

“I want you to come now, Eve.” Villanelle had targeted in on just the right spot at just the right speed, her fingers now moving with a quicker, steadier urgency.

Eve started to come, the built-up pressure finally starting to release. Her mouth opened, but no words came out. She stood there in awe, simply letting herself release, as Villanelle slid two fingers inside of her, her palm rubbing into her clit. 

Eve felt herself clenching around Villanelle’s fingers. Her hips jerked involuntarily and she actually did momentarily lose strength in her legs, but Villanelle somehow held her up with one arm and kept up the steady rhythm with the other, guiding her through waves of pleasure.

As the pleasure condensed to an explosive pinprick, images and sounds flashed through her head. A single drop of blood sliding down a windowpane. The weight of a dagger in her hand. A sentence, in Russian, whispered in her ear. 

Eve must have lost time for a moment, then. She had ended lurched forward with her hands gripping the balcony railing, breathing heavily, her hair forward. 

Had she cried out? She must have cried out.

It took her a few moments to get her bearings. At some point, after the pulsing stopped, Villanelle had slid her hand out of Eve’s pants and wrapped her arms around Eve’s waist. 

Villanelle rested her head on Eve’s shoulder. Then, after a minute, spoke. “Rome is so nice for a honeymoon, no?” 

Eve looked at the cityscape for a moment and, even though Villanelle had just said a crazy thing, nodded. 

It was cool outside. The sky was starting to turn pinkish-purple. They had food, wine, a nice room, and were safe from a horrible disease. They were together, after months of chase and obsession and games. Her muscles felt lax. Her mind, as though an unbearable weight had been lifted. 

It was a revelation, really, and suddenly the burden that had been Eve’s yearning hit her hard. 

She could let it all go, finally. Niko was out of the picture. Work was on hold. She and Villanelle were living together indefinitely, in the moment, and they still knew almost nothing about each other except for the most important things.

The world had changed forever. 

Somehow, Eve wriggled herself around so that she was facing Villanelle. She thought Villanelle would look smug, maybe, or self-satisfied. But, Villanelle stood there, her lips parted, her brow slightly furrowed, gauging Eve’s reaction. 

They just looked at each other for a moment. 

Eve briefly wondered if she should say something. Maybe thank Villanelle for giving her a fabulously intense orgasm. Or-

“Please don’t do something crazy right now like stand on the railing to work out your inner turmoil,” Villanelle said. “I really don’t want to see your beautiful hair covered in brains.”

Eve had no such intention. Ignoring Villanelle’s attempt at levity, she grabbed her shirt at the waist and started pushing her backward, through the open screen door. “Inside. Now.” 

Villanelle looked surprised, her eyes widening. She held her ground for a moment, but then she put her hands up and let Eve back her up. “You know, Eve. I have always admired your moxie.” She looked bemused.

“Bedroom,” Eve said, continuing to guide Villanelle through the suite.

As they walked, Eve tried pulling Villanelle’s shirt off over her head. It got stuck sort of halfway-off, with one arm out and the other stuck at the elbow. Then, Villanelle knocked the back of her leg, and then Eve her shin, on the coffee table. 

“Ow.”

“Shit.”

Jesus. This was always so much smoother on TV. 

“Let me-” Villanelle started.

“Okay, yeah-”

Villanelle stopped walking and took her shirt off, letting it fall to the floor. 

“Thank you,” Eve said. 

Then, she stood for a moment, just pausing to take in Villanelle, shirtless, in a black bra. She already knew Villanelle would be wearing matching underwear. Even during a pandemic, because why not. She placed a hand at Villanelle’s abs, continuing to guide her, and nodded toward the bedroom “Now keep going.” 

When they went through the bedroom door, Eve started working on Villanelle’s belt buckle. She slid the belt out of the loops, running the leather through an upturned palm, before letting it fall to the floor. 

Until that point, Villanelle had sort of humored Eve, letting her lead, but now she moved in, putting a hand under Eve’s chin, to kiss her. 

Eve took a step back and shook her head. “Take your pants off first.”

Villanelle squinted at Eve, thinking for a moment. But, she did as she was told, kicking off her pants, somewhat casually, and then standing with her hands on her hips, in a defiant pose. (And yes, the underwear matched.)

Eve half smiled. She stepped forward and placed a hand at Villanelle’s belly.

Villanelle grabbed her wrist, but Eve twisted her arm out of it. She touched Villanelle’s belly again and kept guiding her to the foot of the bed, where they both stopped. 

“Sit,” Eve said.

“So you are a dog person, after all?”

“Hmmm,” Eve said, with a laugh. “You’re going to have trouble not being in control, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?”

Eve leaned in and kissed Villanelle on the lips and then the neck. She ran her fingers along the skin of Villanelle’s waist, and pulled back. 

“I think you know, Oksana. All your little teasing.”

Eve saw the skin at Villanelle’s waist break out in gooseflesh, and she gently pushed Villanelle back, closer to the bed. Once there, she whispered. “You are usually a very direct person. But you use jokes to hide your discomfort. Now, sit down.”

Villanelle swallowed, but eventually sat, leaning back with her arms behind her, supporting herself. Carefree. Or, trying hard to look that way.

“Now,” Eve said. She climbed onto the bed with Villanelle and straddled her lap. “Did it ever cross your mind that maybe I haven’t been stuck in here with you, you’ve been stuck in here with me?”

Villanelle let out a laugh. A laugh that sounded a bit on the nervous side, really. She put her arms around Eve and made a sort of half-hearted attempt to flip them over on the bed. “I’ve made my intentions with you very clear, Eve. From the moment we arrived in this hotel.”

Eve held steady, keeping them in position. “Oh, I know that you like chasing me. But do you like being caught?”

Villanelle licked her lips, but otherwise kept her face neutral. “Come on, Eve. This is your first time. You don’t even know what you’re doing.”

Eve leaned in and gave Villanelle a lingering kiss, slow and deep, before pulling away. “Now you’re getting desperate. Taunting me.” 

Villanelle reached for Eve’s shirt, trying to pull it up, but Eve caught her hands. Villanelle seemed momentarily shocked, but she began kissing Eve back, hungrily. 

Eve let go of her hands, and Villanelle immediately ran them up Eve’s shirt, touching the skin on her sides and back. Eve felt that it would be very easy to give in. But also, that if she did, Villanelle would have her on her back in no time. And Eve did know, actually, what she was doing. Or, at least, what she wanted to do.

She reached around Villanelle’s back, unclasped her bra with one hand, and got it off Villanelle with remarkable dexterity, tossing it to the floor. 

Villanelle pulled back, “That was good, Eve. I’m impressed. Where did a nice girl like you learn such a thing?”

More teasing. Eve smiled, but didn’t respond. Instead, she stared openly at Villanelle’s breasts, before moving one hand to the back of Villanelle’s neck and kissing her again. She moved her other hand to a breast and then, a nipple, which she began lightly pulling. She felt it harden at her touch. 

“Lay back,” Eve said, guiding Villanelle backwards. 

Villanelle held firmly in place. 

“You hate this, don’t you?” Eve said, with a laugh. 

“I wouldn’t exactly say I hate what is happening right now.” She bit Eve’s bottom lip and reached forward, trying to slip a hand down Eve’s pants.

“Mmm,” Eve said with a click of her tongue, shaking her head. She caught Villanelle’s wrist again, stopping her. “Lay back.” 

Villanelle eyed Eve, assessing, and then after a moment, slid her body back onto the bed. Once on her back, she put her hands behind her head, with a look that was somehow both obstinate and relaxed.

Eve sat for a moment, just taking Villanelle in. She was beautiful. _God,_ she was beautiful. She knew Villanelle knew it, too.

She started moving up Villanelle’s body, slowly, almost crawling. On her way, she stopped to softly kiss a knee, an upper thigh, her lower belly. She lingered at a breast, then her neck, before finding Villanelle’s mouth again. 

Instinctively, she slid a thigh between Villanelle’s legs, and Villanelle shifted a leg around Eve’s leg so they were calf to calf. 

“Eve,” said Villanelle, between kisses. “You’re wearing too many clothes.”

“Shit, you’re right,” Eve said. “Take your underwear off.”

Villanelle’s mouth opened, but nothing came out. Instead of talking, she started taking off her own underwear, lifting her hips and sliding them down with her hands. Eve lifted her own body slightly off of Villanelle and to the side, to give her room to slide them all the way down and then off.

In bizarro-Villanelle style, she twirled her underwear around her finger a few times before letting them fly loose across the room. “Happy?” she asked.

Eve nodded, not letting herself get sucked into Villanelle’s performance.

She took in the full length of Villanelle’s body. Her pedicured toes, toned legs, the soft hair just beneath her belly, her breasts. Her mouth. Her eyes. She laid there, waiting. Looking vulnerable, tentative, and hungry. A look that could change in an instant, turning dark and cold, or light and joking, or any myriad of emotions.

Eve reached out to graze Villanelle’s belly and, then, the scar. The place she had been avoiding looking at. She rubbed her fingers over the line of slightly raised skin. 

“Don’t get any nutty ideas, Eve.”

Eve swallowed, and then looked Villanelle in the eyes. “Does it hurt?”

Villanelle’s eyes flashed, but her response was cool. “Not anymore.”

Eve slid her body down Villanelle. She took a closer look at it. The scar had healed over and was a thin red line. She brought her mouth to it, lightly kissing the raised skin. She kissed her way around Villanelle’s belly, moving lower and lower.

She heard Villanelle draw breath, as if to speak. And then, finally. “Eve?”

Eve stopped kissing, and pulled away, just looking at Villanelle. “Hmm?”

“You don’t have to do this, you know.”

Eve paused. 

In a way, she wanted to laugh. How like Villanelle to aggressively flirt with her for months and then casually give her an out now that she was inches away from going down on her.

“No,” Eve said. “I do. Unless. Should I stop?” 

Eve was beginning, little by little, to understand more of the Villanelle puzzle. 

The various women she brought home, her fuck buddies and one-night stands, were ones she chose because they would let her lead. They could just leave afterwards, without really noticing that Villanelle had closed herself off to them during the entire encounter. 

Villanelle took another breath and exhaled. “I don’t want you to stop, Eve.”

Before Eve could respond, she felt the bed shift slightly. Villanelle had raised a leg, so that one foot was flat on the bed, knee raised, and she slid one hand between her own legs. 

Now, it was Eve’s turn to stare, open-mouthed. 

But only for a moment. She kissed Villanelle’s scar again and then ran her tongue along it. She stayed there, feeling Villanelle’s hips start to rock, before sliding lower and positioning herself between Villanelle’s legs so that she had a front-row view.

She watched as Villanelle rubbed her clit, occasionally dipping two fingers into herself, to gather wetness. She looked up the length of Villanelle’s body and saw that Villanelle was watching Eve watch her, her face slightly flushed. 

Eve leaned forward, then, her mouth finding Villanelle’s hand, the one that was touching herself. She kissed it, and then began licking the fingers so that eventually, Villanelle stopped touching herself. This slight shift in positioning allowed Eve’s tongue to find Villanelle’s clit. 

At first touch, Villanelle’s hips bucked, causing Eve to inwardly smile. A celebratory smile. As if she were finally getting a smidge closer to the real Villanelle underneath the controlled facades.

And yes, it was true, she had never done this before, with a woman. But, it had become evident to her that if you wanted someone badly enough, that didn’t seem to matter much. You would find a way to consume them.

Eve didn’t immediately start ravaging Villanelle with abandon, although a big part of her wanted to. Instead, she tested a finger just outside Villanelle’s entrance. It was slick with desire. 

Eve pulled her face back, to watch, as she slowly slid a finger in, watching Villanelle take her. She was tight, and she immediately clenched around Eve’s finger. Eve stayed there for a moment, reveling in the constricted, slippery feeling. She slowly pulled almost all the way out, before sliding back in. 

Eve repeated the motion a few more times, before moving her face back in to use her tongue on Villanelle’s clit. With her other hand, she tried to hold Villanelle’s hips in place, as they rocked. Eventually, she slid another finger inside, feeling her fingers stretch Villanelle. She heard a moan, and felt a hand at the back of her head, gently holding her in place. 

They stayed like that, Eve giving Villanelle pleasure. Her entire existence condensed to this one moment in time. Everything else in life that led her here, to this bed with this person, was far, far away. 

And then, she felt Villanelle pulling her up, so she let herself be led back up until she was fully on top of Villanelle. 

“What is it?” Eve said. “Was it okay?”

Villanelle laughed. Not a sneering laugh, but the kind of laugh that started at her eyes. “Eve Polastri,” she said. “You are a talented woman.” She then kissed Eve, deeply, while intertwining their legs. 

Before Eve could fully react, she felt Villanelle give their bodies a quick turn, and she found herself on her back, with Villanelle on top of her. Eve knew with certainty, then, that Villanelle could have done that move a long time ago, with ease. 

“And I,” Villanelle said. “Am an impatient one.” She straddled one of Eve’s thighs, while pressing one of her own into Eve, and starting rubbing herself onto Eve.

Eve felt slightly annoyed. Only because she had started a job that she desperately wanted to finish. 

But, in time. In time.

Until then, she was achingly aware of Villanelle’s wetness starting to cover her thigh, over her pants, and of the pleasant sensation starting to, once again, build within her as Villanelle rocked into her. 

She sought Villanelle’s mouth, with her own, but Villanelle kissed her neck. As Villanelle moved on top of her, she felt strands of her hair fall loose from her ponytail. 

“It’s a shame you are still wearing so many clothes,” Villanelle said, whispering into Eve’s ear. “But I’ll remind you that that was your choice.”

Eve smiled, despite herself. Yes, she did regret that now. 

But, the weight of Villanelle on top of her, both using her body to give herself pleasure while giving Eve pleasure at the same time, was like coming home. Perhaps if they stayed this way, this close, everything would be okay and they wouldn’t, one day, destroy each other. 

“Stop thinking, Eve,” Villanelle said, as she continued to push into Eve’s thigh. “Please.”

Eve did stop thinking, at least for now, and instead marveled at what was happening. She pulled Villanelle in, more tightly, and matched her rhythm, with her own hips and thighs. 

Then, Villanelle kissed Eve on the mouth, hard, before letting out a cry. She stopped moving, her legs tightly squeezing Eve’s thigh in what was surely her way of riding out her orgasm. She bit Eve on the shoulder, hard.

After a few moments, Villanelle’s legs relaxed. 

She kissed Eve’s shoulder, where she had bit, and then eventually pulled away, somewhat breathless. She slid off, onto her side, simply looking at Eve.

They laid there in silence for a few moments, both breathing hard. Then, tentatively, Villanelle reached out and touched Eve’s belly, to just rest it there, as if unsure how to be tender with someone. Or, with Eve, specifically.

Eve turned on her side, too, to face her. She smoothed the hair that had come loose behind her ear. 

“Well,” Eve whispered. She searched Villanelle’s eyes for any sign of something genuine that she might be feeling. 

“Well,” Villanelle said, simply.

“That escalated quickly, huh?”

Villanelle had the hint of a smile on her lips, and then she leaned forward and kissed Eve again, on the mouth, before pulling away. 

“That was the culmination of almost two years of foreplay.That was not ‘quickly.’”

Eve laughed. “Two years. Damn.” She touched Villanelle’s hand, the one resting on her belly, and began lightly circling with a finger. 

They laid in silence like that. 

And then, Eve spoke again. “Who are you, Oksana?”

Silence.

“I’m right here,” Villanelle said, finally. “You know, you act like I’m the puzzle, but you’ve really been trying to figure yourself out this whole time.”

Eve could practically hear a record scratch in her head. She half-sat up, resting on an elbow. “Wait, what?”

“What?” Villanelle said. She smiled, a sort of evil smile, and leaned forward to kiss Eve again. Just before making contact, she added. “You can let that one marinate while I go down on you."

“I-”

Villanelle cut her off with a kiss, hard and urgent. Eve felt her will to continue the conversation dissolve. She remembered the feeling of Villanelle’s fingers inside her, the thigh between her legs, and her mouth on Villanelle. 

“You are turned on again, yes?” Villanelle asked, pulling away slightly. She guided Eve back, then, moving halfway on top of her. 

Eve opened her mouth, but just nodded.

“Okay,” Villanelle said, her tone suddenly serious. Her hand moved to Eve’s shirt. “Then are you finally ready to take your clothes off?”

Eve was. 

  
  


**xx Day 22 xx**

  
  


Before dawn, Eve woke up, shifting slightly in the large bed. She had fallen asleep on her side and Villanelle was behind her, with an arm around her. They had fallen asleep only, what, two or three hours earlier? She pulled Villanelle’s arm in more closely.

“Good morning,” Villanelle said, groggily. “Are you ready to order breakfast?”

“Hey, I don’t _always_ wake up immediately thinking of food.” 

“That is true. Sometimes you wake up wanting sex instead,” Villanelle said. “Those are good days.”

“Mmm,” Eve said, in agreement. 

She felt Villanelle shift in bed, so that she could run her fingers through Eve’s hair. “Go back to sleep, Eve. It is early still.”

Eve smiled, closing her eyes at the touch. 

Just as she was getting settled, her phone rang. She picked it up, saw that it was Carolyn, silenced it, and placed it back on the nightstand. She also noticed that she had an unread text message. That must have been what had woken her initially.

“Should you-?” Villanelle started.

“Later.”

After a minute, her phone beeped. After another minute or so, another beep. A voicemail followed immediately by another text message. 

Eve took a breath, and then picked up her phone. She unlocked it and read the message from Carolyn:

_Eve, I know it is 4 am but this concerns your extraction from Rome. Please call when you and your flatmate are not otherwise occupied._

“Geez, what an asshole,” Villanelle said, reading over Eve’s shoulder.

Eve’s stomach lurched. “I should-” she started to say, without finishing. She slowly sat up in bed and then shuffled to the closet, pulling on a robe. 

She walked to the balcony, in a sort of daze, calling Carolyn on the way. She briefly registered the chill in the air and the fact that it was still dark out. As Carolyn spoke, she listened without saying much.

“Do you have a pen, Eve?” Carolyn asked.

Eve nodded, realized Carolyn couldn’t actually see her gestures, and then responded. “Yeah. Yes,” she said. She didn’t even try to look for one, as she stood on the balcony. 

Carolyn relayed details about the extraction plan, and Eve mentally took notes. It would be later today. Early evening, so pack up and get moving. A helicopter on a nearby roof and then a private plane. After that, a taxi. And finally, home. 

When she hung up, she felt numb. She took a few steadying breaths on the balcony and then heard footfalls, behind her. 

Villanelle sidled up next to her, in her pajamas, resting her elbows on the balcony and looking out at the streets below. “I’m not going,” she said, softly.

“That’s crazy,” Eve said, her voice numb. “This is our way out.”

“Our way out to where?”

“Home,” Eve said. 

“Home? London is not my home.”

“Where is it, then? Your home?”

“Nowhere, really,” Villanelle said. “I have thought about going to Alaska. Or, somewhere.”

Eve let out a laugh.

“I know,” Villanelle said. “It sounds ridiculous to say it out loud. But, I have a lot of money.” She took a breath. “And, you could come with me.”

Eve laughed again, this time louder. Not in a mean way. It was just, what? _Really?_ What was her life now, even? What was anyone's life in this fucking moment?

“So we just _Thelma and Louise_ this operation across multiple continents? That didn’t end so well for them, you know.”

“Of course not. That was a stupid movie with a stupid ending that never got as a gay as it should have.” 

“Well, I’ll give you that.”

“But then I got to thinking. Alaska is cold as shit. What do you think about New Zealand? It’s nice there, and their leader is much more attractive.” Villanelle turned to Eve, with a hopeful, fearful eyebrow raised.

Eve turned to face her. God, she was irresistible when she turned on her charm. “Well,” Eve said, trying and probably failing to sound annoyed. “I’m glad we’re focusing on what’s important right now.”

“This is not a marriage proposal, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Villanelle added, quickly.

“Okay. I wasn’t?”

Eve pictured her house in London, empty. She imagined being quarantined there indefinitely. 

“We could disappear, together. At least until this pandemic is over. It is not going away anytime soon,” Villanelle said.

“Assuming I was open to this-”

“Which you are.” Villanelle put a hand at Eve’s waist, drawing her close.

Eve let herself be pulled closer, her body already responding to Villanelle’s touch. “How? How would it even happen?”

“Eve. You always have to be thinking at least three steps ahead.”

“You knew the extraction was coming.”

“I knew it was coming eventually. We both did. I’ve just been planning for it. While you were making bad sourdough bread or whatever. And sorry, but it _was_ bad.”

“It wasn’t _that_ bad.”

Villanelle made a face. “Anyway. There is a beach house in New Zealand. It’s ready for us. If we want it. If you want it.”

“That sounds lovely but we can’t just hop in a cab and be there.”

“People will do anything for enough money. You know this, Eve. This helicopter pilot Carolyn set up, for instance. I will pay him to take us to a different airport, to a different private plane, going to a different place than London.”

Eve looked at Villanelle. 

Was this nuts? Of course it was. Carolyn would shit a brick. She would be abandoning her entire job and house and her life. And, yet. 

“These are very unprecedented times, Eve,” Villanelle said, with the hint of a smile. 

Eve smiled back. “You really have this all set up.”

“Well, I didn’t do it all on my own.”

Konstantin. 

“I was never going to go back to London, Eve. And I won’t stay in Rome. Not here. Not without you.”

Shit.

Shit shit _shit._

Eve could do “being alone.” But, the thought of going to London, not just alone - but without Villanelle, specifically - made her feel empty, panicky, and deeply sad. 

“Fine,” Eve said. “Yes.”

“Really?” Villanelle said. She had a big smile on her face and pulled Eve closer, kissing her on the mouth.

A decision made, they had to shower and start packing, almost immediately. 

Was this love? 

Eve wasn’t sure yet. But, whatever it was, it fit and resonated and worked. For now. 

And, as much as Eve was coming to understand Villanelle, she also understood that parts of Villanelle would continue to mystify and confound and scare her. Was she reckless or controlled? Assassin or protector? Crazy or one of the few sane people in a fucked-up world? It seemed that Villanelle was, simply, all of it.

**xxx The End xxx**


	4. Chapter 4

_So let go_

_And jump in_

_Oh well whatcha waiting for_

_It's all right_

_'Cause there's beauty in the breakdown_

-Frou frou

  
  
  


**xx Three months later xx**

  
  


“Eve, how’s that espresso coming along?” Daniel asked, an impatient twinge in his voice. 

“Coming right up,” Eve replied, suppressing the urge to roll her eyes.

She took a breath, pulled the scoop from the grinder in the espresso machine, and used her finger to level the grinds. The rich coffee aroma was like heaven. She then tamped the scoop down before putting it in the machine to brew. 

Sure, Daniel, the shift manager at Scoops ‘N Brew, was kind of a micromanaging-dickswab-Dwight-Schrute clone. But, she liked the routine here, both the part-time schedule and the methodical steps involved in making the perfect cup of coffee. And sure, Villanelle had money, lots of money apparently. More than enough money to support them both, for many years. But, Eve had wanted her own money, too.

She watched the espresso begin to drip into the tiny porcelain cup she had placed under the nozzle. Once it filled, she placed the cup on a matching tiny saucer and carried it to the serving counter. 

A customer took it, with a polite nod.

Next up at the register was a young man holding a cellphone to his ear. Eve waited a moment for him to put it down, but he simply continued talking. He didn’t even do the thing where he raised a finger in the air to give the universal “just a minute” signal. He seemed to lack spatial awareness altogether, really, manspreading right in front of the counter. And sure, no one else was waiting in line behind him, but it still pissed Eve off.

She looked pointedly at the “no cellphones” sign near the register and then back at the man, and then back at the sign, but the man remained oblivious. 

Behind him, the little bell above the door jangled and another customer walked in. Eve peered around Cell Phone Asswad and one corner of her mouth turned up in a half-smile. She let herself openly stare.

Villanelle strode in, bundled in her warm jacket and hat. The hint of a smile broke out on her face when she saw Eve.

“Yo!” It was Cell Phone Asswad. He was now waiving his cell phone-clad hand in front of Eve’s face, trying to get her attention. “I _said_ I’ll have a mocha latte thin.” He then raised his eyebrows, waiting expectantly.

Eve paused for a beat, and then tapped his order into the register without acknowledging it otherwise. She heard Daniel clear his throat, nearby, as if he had been eavesdropping with bated breath.

“Got it,” Eve added. She tried to sound chipper, but she knew her voice came out sounding too loud and sort of altogether too much.

In her peripheral vision, Eve saw Villanelle step to the side of Cell Phone Assward and look him up and down. A look that was somehow both blank and intensely combative.

Oh, shit. No no _no_. 

Eve willed Villanelle to make eye contact with her. 

The thing is, almost half a year in lockdown, including the time they had spent together in Rome and then their very _Planes, Trains, and Automobiles_ escape from there, had been a lot. The pandemic itself had been a lot to deal with, for everyone, really. And, it was especially a lot when one also happened to be figuring oneself out with the helping hand, and what skillful hands they were, of one's professional rival, so to speak.

“ _Eve._ ” It was Daniel. His voice was sharp and impatient. 

Eve knew she probably deserved it, to be honest. 

But, what Daniel didn’t understand was that, today, _right now_ , a highly-skilled assassin was looking at Cell Phone Asswad as though she were mentally perusing the vast and creative catalog of ways she could dismember him using solely the implements she carried on her person at the moment or, even better, the accoutrements handily available at Scoops ‘N Brew.

Finally, thankfully, Villanelle looked at Eve, a questioning look in her eyes. A look that said, _Toss me that portafilter, why don’t you. I’ll scoop out his eyeballs and then we can watch them float decoratively on his mocha latte whatever-the-fuck._

Eve gave the subtlest shake of her head.

In response, Villanelle narrowed her eyes and her face changed instantly. She gave Eve a small, hopeful, happy look. She then backed off, stepping into place behind Cell Phone Asswad again, while he remained completely unaware that Eve had basically just saved his life.

**xxx**

  
  


“And how is day three going?” Villanelle asked, as they sat on the patio together, a cup of coffee in front of each of them. She reached across the table and touched a strap of the blue apron Eve had on. “This is very cute, by the way.”

Eve had taken her break. “Well, I’ve decided that working at a coffee shop would be so much better if I could just make coffee and not have to serve actual customers.”

Villanelle laughed. “This is a surprise to you, Eve?”

“Hey, fuck off,” Eve said, the hint of a smile on her face. “It’s like people have completely forgotten how to act in public. They just shuffle around like fucking zombies in a post-pandemic daze.”

“Haven’t people always been like that?”

“No, not like this. It’s like people are just, I don’t know, fatigued from living through this massive, collective worldwide trauma.”

“Yeah, the ones who don’t think it’s all a massive hoax.”

“Jesus Christ. Don’t even.”

Villanelle grinned, as if pleased to get a rise out of Eve. “You know, it’s amazing that humanity has survived this long, really.”

“Right?” Eve said. “Anyway, at least this job is just part-time. I can handle people on a part-time basis.”

“You can handle me on more than a part-time basis.”

“Yeah, well. You’re not most people.”

“Hmm,” Villanelle said, looking mischievous. “Maybe I should apply here. You could make the coffees while I keep the customers in line. What do you think?”

Eve took a sip of her coffee and placed it back on the saucer. “Sure, Villanelle.” 

“Hmph. Well, I think it’s a great plan.”

“Okay. But, your method of ‘keeping everyone in line’ might attract the attention of international authorities, which I thought we were trying to avoid.”

“Fine.”

Underneath the table, Eve grazed Villanelle’s calf with her foot. “Hey,” she said. “It could be hot though. This place has a basement.”

Villanelle gave Eve a look like her interest was piqued. “Really?”

Eve nodded, but then turned serious. “Really though,” Eve said. “Have you thought any more about what you might do with your post-Twelve life?”

“You mean aside from lounging around my amazing beachfront property looking pretty?”

“Well, you do that very well, I’ll give you that.”

Daniel opened the door, then, and poked his head out. “Eve, we just had a massive online order. I’m going to need you back inside. Oh,” he said, noticing Villanelle. “Hello there. You know each other?”

“Uh,” Eve said. “Yeah. Sure. Daniel, this is, um, my-”

Daniel looked at Eve blankly, waiting.

“This is-” Eve started, and then stopped again.

“Oksana,” Villanelle said, looking directly at Daniel. “I’m Oksana.”

“Yes,” Eve said, and then dorkily pointed a finger gun at Villanelle.

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Oksana. I’m Daniel, the _manager_ ,” His tone was completely different with Villanelle. Automatically more friendly. “Do you want a scone or something? On the house for you.”

“No,” Villanelle said, frowning, and in a tone that implicitly added, “you dumbfuck.”

He nodded, oblivious, and then looked at Eve. “Just a few more minutes out here, Eve.”

“Yeah,” Eve said, but Daniel was already gone. After the door shut, she added. “What a knob. He makes _me_ track and pay for every item I eat.”

“Really? Do you?”

“No. But still.”

Villanelle smiled, but then she took a sip of her coffee and eyed Eve.

“So,” Eve started, wary of the dark look Villanelle was suddenly giving her. Better to keep talking, probably. “Oksana? You’re embracing the Russian identity?”

“I guess so. It just sort of came out. Who cares. It’s who I am.”

“Okay,” Eve said. “Do you want me to start calling you that, too?” She drank the last of her coffee and scooted her chair back, preparing to stand.

“No, Eve. You can keep calling me, ‘ _Oh fuck, don’t stop.’_ ”

“Very funny,” Eve said, feeling her face flush. She stood. “Well, I should probably get back.”

“Yeah. Daniel is waiting.”

And then, silence.

“Okay-” Eve started.

“Eve?”

“Hmm?” Shit.

“Did you not want Daniel to know we’re together?”

“What? Oh. I don’t know,” Eve frowned. “It doesn’t matter, I guess.”

“‘It doesn’t matter,’ you guess?”

“Yeah,” Eve said, shrugging. “Look, I should-” she gestured vaguely to the coffeeshop.

“I know. Get back to work.”

Eve did, and felt like a dickswab for the rest of her shift.

  
  


**xxx**

  
  


Eve got off work around dinnertime and brought sandwiches home from the coffeeshop. As she and Villanelle ate, everything seemed okay.

Afterwards, Eve showered. She lathered her body with soap and let the warm water run over her body, just taking a few minutes to relax. Her eyes were closed when she felt a cool breeze waft over her body. She opened her eyes and turned.

Villanelle had wordlessly entered the shower. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she was still dressed. Well, sort of. Lately, she had taken to wearing a robe around the house in the evenings over her pajamas so that her look was sort of like a cross between Hugh Hefner and one of his hot young girlfriends. Tonight’s robe was a satin green. It couldn’t have been cheap. 

“What are you-” Eve started.

Villanelle put a hand at Eve’s face, leaned in, and kissed her, hard, on the mouth. 

Eve put her hands at Villanelle’s waist, pulling her in. So, okay, this was - not necessarily a surprise, because Villanelle was a spontaneous person - but unexpected all the same. Maybe Eve had read too much into the awkwardness at the coffee shop earlier. 

Eve decided to roll with this pleasant surprise. She began undoing Villanelle’s robe and tried to deepen the kiss. 

Just as she did, Villanelle pulled away and raised her hand, which apparently had been holding a strap-on.

“Put it on,” Villanelle said, unsmiling.

Eve swallowed, and felt her heart race. She was eager. She desperately wanted to be a hard-ass and confident. And yet. “I’ve never-”

“Yeah, no shit,” Villanelle said. She leaned in and nipped Eve’s ear. “Although you pegging Moustache would have been a sight, I know he was a strictly missionary man.”

Eve opened her mouth, but no retort came out. She felt Villanelle kiss her neck, so she turned her head slightly, giving her better access.

“But,” Villanelle said. “You’ve thought about this. With me.”

Eve looked at it again. The dildo itself was light purple. Because, sure, why not? It also wasn’t terribly large. Drops of water ran down its length, from the shower. 

Then, almost surprising herself, she put her fingers over Villanelle’s, holding it, and took the black harness from her. It had a nice weight to it. A weight that intrigued her. She tried to quickly ascertain how to assemble it onto herself. Would she step into it like underwear, or - 

Suddenly, Villanelle was on one knee, guiding the harness onto Eve and tightening buckles and straps as though she had done it a million times. Then, once it was properly on, she stood and moved in, kissing Eve again. 

Eve felt the dildo between them. When she had previously fantasized about doing this (and yes, okay, she certainly had), she had wondered if she would feel awkward and clumsy with it. It turns out, she didn’t. In fact, it felt sort of right, on her body. She felt hot. She was turned on. Mostly, she was stunned that Villanelle was going to let her do this. 

She pulled Villanelle’s wet robe off of her and let it drop to the shower floor, with a plop, so that Villanelle was completely naked, too. Warm water slid down their bodies. She leaned forward and kissed Villanelle, biting her lip as she pulled away. She touched Villanelle’s sides and ran her hands down her body, stopping at her waist. 

Villanelle spread her legs, then, and used a hand to guide the dildo between her legs, but not inside her, so it was just nudged against her. Then, she took a hand and placed it at Eve’s cheek, looking at her. “Do you feel that?” she said.

Eve let out a breath. The way they were positioned, for Eve, was just right, so that the dildo put pressure against her clit, as she leaned slightly forward, but not yet into Villanelle. She nodded. 

Eventually, they moved from the shower to the bathroom, up against the sink, to the bedroom, groping at each other and bumping into furniture. Eve was frantic, desperate. Every time she wanted to enter Villanelle with dildo, Villanelle would pull back, teasing. “Not yet.”

They might both have bruises tomorrow, but Eve loved it. Every second. There was still nothing in the world like fucking Villanelle. 

They didn’t say a lot, but eventually they made their way to the bedroom floor, with Eve between Villanelle’s legs, going down on her. She had learned a lot over their past months together. How to make Villanelle come quickly, slowly, or - if she wanted to tease - not at all. 

Later, somehow, they were in bed, with Villanelle poised on top of Eve, straddling just above the dildo, her hands on either side of Eve’s face. “I know you want to top me, Eve, but I don’t think you are ready,” she said. She leaned down to kiss Eve, but pulled away as Eve raised her head to meet her. 

Eve let out a laugh. She felt mad with desire. She looked down the length of their bodies and wanted to thrust up into Villanelle.

“I know you want to flip me over,” Villanelle said. She leaned down and kissed the corner of Eve’s mouth and then her neck. “Yes?”

“Yes. Fuck yes.” Maybe if she just admitted it, Villanelle would let her. 

That, of course, was wishful thinking. Instead, Villanelle reached down and grabbed hold of the dildo. She began pressing the base of it against Eve, so that it was putting pressure against her clit again. “Maybe I should just finish you off like this,” she said, starting to move her hand rhythmically.

It felt so good to Eve. Her breath grew ragged. “Goddammit, Villanelle.”

Villanelle looked at Eve, amused. But then, she pulled her hand away and supported herself over the dildo.

Eve let out a gasp as she watched Villanelle lower herself slowly onto the dildo. It was, with Villanelle’s weight, pressing into her clit again. It was pure bliss. 

“There,” Villanelle said, looking down at Eve, pausing all movement.

Eve nodded, her lips parted. They simply stayed like that for a few breaths. 

Then, Villanelle began slowly riding. Eve looked down the length of their bodies, watching them connect over and over again, and feeling like she could die, now, a content woman.

Later that night in bed, Eve rested on her side in the crook of Villanelle’s arm, who was lying on her back. Satisfied, she ran her fingers up and down Villanelle’s chest, feeling relaxed, as she often did after sex. Well, after sex with Villanelle.

“You were hungry tonight,” Villanelle said. 

“Mmm-hmm.”

“I had a feeling you might be.”

“You were right,” Eve said. Her fingers continued their dance. From the middle of Villanelle’s chest to her belly, and back up again. 

Villanelle caught Eve’s hand and intertwined their fingers. “You want sex when there is unresolved tension.”

“Huh?” Eve said, snuggling in and closing her eyes. She didn’t expect, or particularly want, a response. 

“Really, Eve.” And, when Eve didn’t respond, Villanelle sighed. “We can have talks, you know.”

“Gross,” Eve said.

“Hey,” Villanelle said. She let go of Eve’s hand, found one of her eyeballs in the dark with her fingers, and pried open Eve’s eyelids. “Talk to me.”

“What the-” Eve started. She swatted Villanelle’s hand away and opened her eyes. 

“Don’t sleep yet,” Villanelle said. “I’m trying to talk to you.”

“Oh, shit. You’re serious?”

“Yes I’m serious, you idiot.”

“Goddamn. I didn’t realize you plied me with amazing sex just to get me to talk.”

“You know, you have a lot of homophobia for someone who enjoys fucking women so much.”

“What the hell, Villanelle?” Eve rose so she was leaning on her elbow, looking down at Villanelle, who remained lying on her back, staring at the ceiling. 

“We sleep, eat, and live together for months on end and you can’t even acknowledge it to your one-eyed wonder weasel of a boss?”

“This is about earlier today.” Eve shook her head.

“Yes, obviously,” Villanelle said.

“I’m not ashamed, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

“I did more than suggest it.”

A part of Eve wanted Villanelle to climb on top of her. To hold her down. To scream in her face. Maybe even slap her. Instead, Villanelle’s voice remained calm. That was bad.

“Look. I’m serious,” Eve said, finally. “I’m not ashamed.”

“Okay, then are we together or not, as girlfriends?”

“Well,” Eve said. “I don’t know.” Tentatively, she reached a hand toward Villanelle again, lightly touching her belly. “Hey,” she started. “I’m sorry. I don’t really know what else to say.”

“Well, there’s a surprise.”

“We’ve been having fun,” Eve said. Internally, she winced right after saying it. Even in movies, that was always what the asshole guy said to some earnest woman he had just used for sex. 

“I’m so glad I could entertain you during a worldwide crisis,” Villanelle said, swatting Eve’s hand away. “Sometimes you really are the worst, Eve.”

“What do you expect? We’ve never even defined what we were,” Eve said. Another cop out. “You’ve said yourself you never want to get married to anyone. And, you know I’ve been in no hurry to be a kept woman again,” Eve said. “Even if the lockdown forced us together.”

“ _Forced_ us?” Villanelle laughed. “Is that going to be your story, once you go back to your regular, boring life? _‘I’m not sure what happened, Carolyn, one minute I was doing yoga and then the next I was eating out the assassin! Must have been a rare side effect of the virus!”_

“Jesus, that’s not what I meant.”

“Then why don’t you say what you really mean for once. What are we? The lockdown has ended. So now what? We go our separate ways?”

“What? No. I don’t know.”

Villanelle let out an angry laugh. “You really have no insight, do you?” She rolled onto her side, away from Eve.

“I-”

“Just stop. Why don't you lay there and think about what you want, since it never seems to cross your mind any other time.”

“Jesus Christ, Villanelle.”

“Seriously, just stop. Before I put a gag in your mouth.”

Eve stopped, because Villanelle might(?) actually do it and Eve might(?) actually like it and that second thought gave her pause. 

But, she stayed perched on her elbow for a beat, sort of frozen, but also sort of grateful that the conversation seemed to be over. Or, at least, that Villanelle no longer seemed to expect answers right now.

She laid back on her pillow, looking up at the ceiling before eventually closing her eyes. 

Did Villanelle really want more out of this? Wouldn’t it be insane to expect it to be anything more, given who, and what, both of them were? Wouldn’t an actual relationship be like throwing a gasoline onto a very unpredictable, very strange, very gay, very _hot_ fire? They hadn’t even been _friends_ before all this had happened. 

Next to her, Villanelle laid still. Her breathing became long and even. 

Eventually, Eve fell asleep, although she woke up several times during the night. At some point, she moved toward the middle of the bed to put an arm around Villanelle, and Villanelle was gone. 

  
  


**xxx**

  
  


Over the next few weeks, Eve continued to work at the coffee shop while co-existing in the same house as Villanelle. Villanelle didn’t push for answers and Eve didn’t offer any.

One morning, very early, Eve woke up in bed alone again. It had been happening fairly regularly now. Once every few nights or so. This time, she got up and walked to the living room. Villanelle wasn’t there. She wasn’t on the deck, in the office, or in the spare bedroom. 

Alone in the house, Eve got a glass of water from the kitchen and sat out on the deck, by herself, in the dark. It was cool outside, but not overly so. She could smell the ocean, nearby. It was close enough to hear the waves. 

She thought about texting Villanelle, but didn’t. 

When she turned on her phone, though, there was an unread text message. It must have come in while she had been sleeping and now it sat, out of place, with the rest of her text messages, all of which were from Villanelle, food take-out, or the grocery delivery service. 

It was a new phone number not yet associated with any of her contacts on the new phone she had gotten in New Zealand, under a new last name, with her new identity documents. 

Fuck.

Her finger hovered over the message icon. She took a breath and then tapped the message.

_Trouble in paradise yet? I have an offer for you._

Eve inhaled sharply. She quickly swiped the message away. Her heart racing, she then scrolled through the apps on her phone, wanting to distract herself. She tapped the icon for a meditation app she had downloaded (and rarely used) during the lockdown and let it play. After a few seconds, she pressed stop.

They had been found. Fuck. Or had they? It could be a wrong number, right? No. Carolyn? The Twelve? Some rando with a vendetta?

She briefly thought about calling Villanelle. Yes, she should call Villanelle immediately. But, instead, she found the message again in her deleted items. Fuck fuck shit.

She started typing a draft response, took a breath, and hit send.

_Who is this?_

In less than a minute, a response appeared.

_Call this number._

No. Nope. No fucking way.

She swiped the message away and started browsing her podcast player app, perusing shows from the true crime genre. But then, her phone started ringing.

Eve looked around, absurdly, as if the person calling might be standing nearby. Seeing no one, she accepted the call.

“Eve,” said a voice. It was a woman, speaking with what sounded like a French accent.

Eve took a breath and then responded. “And you are?”

“You can call me Hélène.”

“Okay.” 

“You are wondering who I am and what I want.”

“The thought had crossed my mind, yes,” Eve said, trying and (she thought) succeeding in keeping her voice calm.

“I’m not going to beat around the bush then,” Hélène said. “Villanelle is very, very good at her job.”

“Yes.” Son of a bitch.

“Then you understand,” Hélène continued. “Why I want her working again.”

“Okay. That's not really my call.”

“Calm down, Eve.”

“I’m calm enough, thanks.”

“I highly doubt that.”

“Well, I hardly think what Villanelle does with her life is up to me.”

“Of course. Villanelle is quite strong-willed, isn’t she? Unfortunately, it seems that you, and you alone, have tamed the feral beast, at least for the moment.”

Eve let out a laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

“I am. And, I’m not happy about the offer I’m about to propose. But, you would be wise to seriously consider it.”

“Okay.”

“My proposition is that you get her working again, and come back with her. As her keeper.”

“Her keeper?” Eve laughed again.

“Yes. You have quite studiously analyzed her and, it turns out, you were better than mediocre at it.”

“Wow, thanks for the stellar review.” Eve said.

“It would be higher, but you have her unfocused. Have I mentioned yet that I am not pleased by that? Yes, I think I have.”

“Why should I care what pleases you?” Eve said. 

Hélène laughed. “Such brave words over the phone. But, you know as well as I do that she will tire of whatever little thing you have going on right now. Perhaps she already has, hmm?”

Eve swallowed, but said nothing.

“So,” Hélène continued. “I merely propose a more seamless transition. You accept the inevitable and get her working again. If you can do that, and keep her in line, you can stick around.”

“No,” Eve said. “I don’t think so.”

“Eve. I _do_ think so. In fact, I think you would _very much_ like the sort of up-close-and-personal view of Villanelle at work that I am offering you.”

Eve’s breath hitched. She licked her lips. 

“I’ll leave you with that to contemplate,” Hélène said. “Let me know your decision.”

“How? When?”

“We’ll be in touch.”

  
  


**xxx**

  
  


Eve stayed on the deck as the sun rose, just staring into the distance. 

Eventually, Villanelle came home and found her out there. She slid the door open and leaned against it. “Eve, you’re up.”

“They’ve found us,” Eve said, simply, without taking her eyes off the horizon. “The Twelve.”

“It’s freezing out here,” Villanelle said.

Eve looked at her, finally. 

Villanelle was wearing a dark suit, no tie. Just a plain white shirt underneath. Her cheeks were flushed. She looked vibrant and gorgeous, really. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Eve, assessing. 

“Did you hear me?” Eve started. “I said-”

“I heard.”

“Okay. Well, do you have any thoughts about that?”

“I don’t want to kill anymore,” Villanelle said, shrugging, her hands in the pockets of her pants. “So, unless they have a new job in mind for me, I’m not interested.”

“Okay. Well, they don’t. So, I guess that’s that.”

“I guess so.” Villanelle continued looking at Eve. “What else?” she added. 

_Take me to bed. We need to talk. Where the fuck have you been going at night?_ Instead, she said, “They want me to be your keeper.”

Villanelle’s eyes widened in a flash of surprise and then her face darkened. “Oh,” she said. “And you want that, I suppose.”

Eve looked away. “I don’t know what I want.”

They stayed like that for several beats, in silence. 

And then, Eve spoke again. “Do you think the pandemic broke us? Or did it somehow rearrange us into who we really are?”

Villanelle looked at Eve for a few breaths. “I’m not sure,” she said. “Maybe it did both. Does it have to be one or the other?”

“Huh.” Eve pondered that for a minute.

“I’m going to bed now,” Villanelle said, and then turned to leave.

“Good night, Villanelle,” Eve said, looking toward the ocean in the distance. 

**xxx**


	5. Chapter 5

“Should we sit up at the bar?” Villanelle asked, a few nights later. 

They had just entered the newly-reopened neighborhood dive bar. They’d never been there before, because of the lockdown. 

“Sure,” Eve said. 

It was too cold to sit outside on the patio, and the booths seemed dark and depressing. The whole place had a sad vibe, really. As though it had opened in the 1980s and had seen no major renovations or upgrades since then. A broken neon sign hung outside with one of those light-up martinis that seemed to be generic code for “cocktail bar” in cities across the globe.

“Okay,” Villanelle said, and gestured for Eve to have a seat.

Eve picked a spot near the end of the bar closest to the door, and pulled out one of the stools. 

“God, I feel like it’s been fully ten million years since I’ve been to a bar.” She kept her purse in her lap and wasn’t sure where to put her hands. “And now all I can think about is the number of germs crawling over everything.”

Villanelle pulled out the stool next to her and sat down, eyeing the bartop suspiciously. “I think bar peanuts are out of the question.”

Eve cringed. “The things people used to take for granted.”

“Hello, ladies,” the bartender said, greeting them and placing two coasters on the bartop. “The surface is sanitized after each customer. Now, what can I get you?” 

“An old-fashioned please,” Eve said. Why not. It would be nice to drink something somebody else made for her. Something other than wine. 

“Make that two,” Villanelle said. 

Eve gave her a side-eye. “Are you sure?”

“Yep.”

The bartender shrugged and turned to start making the drinks. 

Eve watched the bartender work. He was a heavy pour. Light on the sugar and bitters. Too much ice, probably to cut costs on the bourbon. Two of those thin cocktail straws in each tumbler. Once he was done, he placed their drinks in front of them. Eve gave him a nod before he turned away.

Villanelle picked up her glass and raised it. “ _Salud.”_ ”

Eve raised her glass, clinked it into Villanelle’s, and took a drink. It was slightly sweet, burned a little going down. That would do it. 

She settled in, then, to the night. To just being there, with Villanelle. She kept both hands on her drink, the ice through the glass cooling her hands, as she sucked at the straw.

Next to her, Villanelle plucked the straw out of her own drink and alternated chewing on it and drinking directly from her glass. 

They finished their first drink quickly, and Villanelle signaled the bartender for two more. She then swiveled around on her barstool to scope out the bar, so Eve did the same. 

The bar was moderately crowded. Two people were in a booth together. A few people were at the other end of the bar. A man nearby laughed with his gaping maw wide open and, when he did, Eve envisioned bazillions of tiny virus particles being exhaled from his mouth. Instinctively, both Eve and Villanelle recoiled and turned back toward the bar.

“So,” Eve said, eventually. “What are you thinking about?” 

See, she could talk. They _could_ have talks. It was _fine._

“Look at you,” Villanelle said. She narrowed her eyes, and then leaned in. “Well, I was just wondering something.”

“Okay?”

“This might be our first real date, huh?"

“Hmm,” Eve said. “And here I thought our first date involved Shepherd's pie and me being at the wrong end of a kitchen knife.”

Right at the word “knife,” the bartender placed their new drinks on the table and gave them a startled look before quickly averting his eyes. 

Villanelle, ignoring his reaction, laughed and said, “Now that was a very good Shepherd’s pie. And, one of the first times I saw you naked.”

“Wait, ‘one of the’?” Eve started, her brows furrowing. 

Villanelle raised an eyebrow, gave a little shrug, and took another drink.

Eve laughed, despite the morbidity of it all. “I guess we really put the cart before the horse,” she said.

“The U-Haul, you mean.”

Eve looked at her for a second.

“It’s a joke, Eve-”

“I know about the U-Haul joke.”

“You know,” Villanelle said. “For being such a homophobe, you know a lot about lesbian things.”

“Really? You want to do this right now?”

Villanelle didn’t say anything, so they sipped on their drinks some more. 

Then, Eve turned back toward Villanelle and laughed. “My god, the way we did everything was just completely backwards, wasn’t it?” she said. “Living together 24/7. Sex. Sneaking across the globe together. All before ever going on one normal date.”

“Eve, we are not ‘normal’ people who go on ‘normal’ dates.”

Villanelle didn’t look around first, or lower her voice, when she spoke at any point in the conversation. And really, it was one of the things Eve loved about her. The shamelessness. It was so different than how Eve felt inside. Not about loving a woman. But, the other stuff, mostly. 

“Okay,” Eve said. “So maybe in a parallel universe, this would be our first real date. And, I’d just be a girl who works at a coffee shop, standing in front of a girl who is-”

“Stunning and rich and-”

“Very irritating sometimes,” Eve finished. “It’s a real meet-cute.”

Villanelle laughed. “Could you imagine us as regular people?” She then adopted a British accent. “ _I really liked what you said in your online dating profile. Where do you see yourself in five years?”_ she said. 

“That doesn’t sound so horrible.”

“Eve, that is grotesque.”

“Fine. Fuck.”

They sat there some more and sipped on their drinks.

“Hmm,” Villanelle said, eventually. 

“What?” Eve said. She followed Villanelle’s gaze to the other end of the bar. A tall woman with long red hair had just sat down and was looking at her phone. 

“Do you think she’s attractive, Eve?”

“Okay. I was trying to have a semi-serious conversation with you,” Eve said.

“Answer me."

“Jesus. Okay,” Eve said. “Yes.”

“See that wasn’t so hard. Would you like to kiss her?”

“Is this your fucked-up way of asking if I want to date other people?”

“Oh, so you admit we are dating at least,” Villanelle laughed. Before Eve could respond, she added, “I wasn’t asking if you actually wanted to kiss her, just if you thought you would like it.”

“You’re an asshole.”

From one of the booths, two people laughed loudly at a joke one of them had made. Eve turned and glared in their direction. 

It was sometimes said that drinking didn’t change people, it just made them who they were, only much more so. And, the more Eve drank, the more she settled into a truth about herself. She just simply didn’t like many other people, strangers or not. 

“Well?” Villanelle asked, waiting.

“Is this what you do,” Eve said, feeling bold and annoyed. “When you got out at night? Go drink and check out other women? Hook up with them?”

“Ha,” Villanelle said, taking a sip of Eve’s drink even though she had a fresh one of her own sitting at the bar. “I knew it bothered you.”

Eve could smell the sweet whiskey on Villanelle’s breath, intermingling with the fragrant notes from the soap that lingered on her skin. 

“It doesn’t bother me,” Eve said, pulling her drink away from Villanelle’s reach. “Seriously. Fuck around if you want. I know what you were like before. Orgies and all that.”

“Why do you pretend?” Villanelle said. “It’s seriously so pointless.” She turned and leaned back against the bar. Then, suddenly, she leaned back in toward Eve and said, nodding toward the woman again, “Do you want to watch me hurt her?”

Now that was a question.

Eve licked her lips and followed Villanelle’s gaze, once again, to look at the redhead. The woman smiled as a man approached and sat down beside her, as if she had been waiting for him to arrive-

 _No._ Eve stopped that train of thought. Jesus. Fuck. 

Then, struck with another thought, she turned quickly to Villanelle, wide-eyed. “Oh, shit. Have you been,” she made a knifing motion that ended up looking more like a jack-off motion. “Again? Is that how The Twelve found us?”

“Wow,” Villanelle said, raising her eyebrows and looking away. 

Eve looked at Villanelle and then back at the woman and then back at Villanelle. She and Villanelle hadn’t had sex since the strap-on night, making this their longest dry spell, but what the hell. She had to try. 

“Hey,” she said. “Do you want to get out of here?” She was hoping Villanelle would be receptive to her code for _let’s go home immediately and fuck._

“No, Eve. I don’t want to get out of here. We’ve been having such a nice evening out like _regular people_ , don’t you think?”

So, they stayed. 

  
  


**xxx**

  
  


A little before noon the next day, Eve sat on the sofa eating plain toast. It was the first thing she’d been able to stomach. She had gotten up earlier without waking Villanelle, who had passed out after spending much of the early morning hours in the bathroom and then in bed, with a bucket nearby.

Just as Eve took a sip of coffee, Villanelle padded into the living room in a robe and slippers, her hair down and disheveled. She sat down on the sofa, closed her eyes, and swallowed. She then licked her lips as though it were extremely painful and gross to do so.

“Eve,” she said. “What the fuck.”

“Oh, you mean the complete binge we went on last night?” Eve set her coffee down, picked up her toast, and took a bite of it.

Villanelle swallowed and cringed. “Can you just not?”

Eve closed her mouth, slowed her chewing to try to make it as silent as possible, and then placed her toast remnants directly onto the coffee table.

“I am not used to drinking like that,” Villanelle said. “Not like you.”

“Hey, I drink, but not like that,” Eve said. She herself had been riding waves of nausea all morning. “Coffee?”

Villanelle shivered and subtly shook her head. 

“Why don’t you lay back down,” Eve said.

“I can’t stay asleep,” Villanelle said. Still, she took a breath, turned her body, and then slid down so that she was laying on the couch. She hoisted her legs into Eve’s lap and then closed her eyes. “I was a messy bitch last night.”

 _Ayup_ , Eve thought. 

Indeed, she now had a better, _firsthand_ , understanding of why Villanelle usually abstained from alcohol. 

“Is the sofa tipping over?” Villanelle said, her eyes still closed.

“Uh, nope,” Eve said, taking a courtesy glance at the floor just to make sure. She took another sip of her coffee. “So, uh. You were certainly in rare form."

“I don’t want to think about it.”

“Okay. Then don’t.” Tentatively, she placed her hands on Villanelle’s shins, and began gently rubbing them. “Just let me know when you want some food.” 

Villanelle swallowed, gave a faint nod, and just laid there for a few minutes. Every so often she would sigh audibly.

And then, finally, she spoke. “I know I don’t deserve you, Eve.”

“You don’t have to-”

“No,” Villanelle said. “I know that’s why you won’t be my girlfriend. Like, for real be my girlfriend. You aren’t a homophobe.”

“Please-”

“I know what I am. Broken. Don’t argue with me. I will vomit again.”

“I,” Eve started, but then stopped. Why did she suck so bad at this? She had no magic words to say. Villanelle _was_ broken. They both were. Probably always would be, too.

“How many shots did we have?” Villanelle said. She then quickly added, “No. Wait. Don’t tell me. Just. When did we leave?”

Villanelle had been fun last night. At first. 

“Late. We shouldn’t go back to that bar for a while,” Eve said. “Or, maybe, ever.”

Villanelle crossed her arms over her stomach, made a groaning noise, and seemed to slink further into the couch.

Eve remembered most of the evening, moreso in a series of scenes with gaps in the timeline.

Villanelle had continued drinking after Eve had stopped. And, as she drank, Villanelle had lost more and more of her filter. She became less controlled. Less cautious. Less adept at picking up social cues from other people. Less able, or maybe simply less willing, to pass as a “normal person” in public.

She had been the life of the party, too. For a while, anyway.

But then, what had started as boasting to the bartender about her physical prowess had escalated to showing everyone that she could do push-ups (on the bar) to doing demos of putting men in joint locks (just a little too hard) to talking (a little too realistically) about what it might be like to cut someone’s knob off with a pair of sewing scissors.

Her jokes and commentary had become increasingly off.

“What do you do?” one man had asked, inquiring about her line of work.

“These days? Fuck _her_ , mostly,” Villanelle had said, nodding toward Eve. “I can’t tell you what I _used_ to do.”

“Why, because then you’d have to kill me?” he’d said, laughing.

“Yes,” Villanelle had deadpanned. 

It was a stale joke that was only even remotely funny among drunk people, but Villanelle hadn’t even picked up on the fact that it _was_ just a joke and the man was simply setting up her punchline.

So it went, all night long. And, sure, most people in the bar were drunk and thought she was putting on some sort of hilarious Russian hardass act, but not everyone. The bartender, for instance. 

Eve, also drunk, was less able to rein Villanelle in. But, she also didn’t want to, and maybe that was worse. 

She had egged Villanelle on long after she should have been ushering her home. Hour after hour she watched in fascinated awe at this new persona of Villanelle’s that she had never seen before, all the time wondering, _Is this the real Villanelle, defenses down, behind all the personas and defenses and joking?_

“It’s not too late for you,” Villanelle said, finally, from the sofa. “You know. To get your life back on track. You can just tell people you went a little crazy during the pandemic.”

She had opened her eyes now, and was looking at Eve. Her eyes were dark and glassy. Her face was mostly blank.

So, this was it. The void that sometimes consumed Villanelle. 

“We really don’t have to do this right now,” Eve said.

“You never want to do this. So, I’m telling you that you don’t have to. I get it. We’re just enemies with benefits, Eve. Psychopaths who fuck.” 

Eve was struck mostly by the emptiness in Villanelle’s voice. The words she said were harsh, but there was no emotion behind them. Nothing she said reached her eyes.

Villanelle continued. “Go back to your normal life.”

“That ‘normal life’ doesn’t exist anymore.” 

“I’m sure you can put it back together.”

“It’s not just the pandemic that has made that impossible, Villanelle. I walked away from that life for a reason.”

“No. This was never supposed to be anything more. You were right.”

“That’s not really what I said.”

“Just stop, Eve. This is your out,” Villanelle said, closing her eyes again. “Your chance to leave while I don’t care. You should consider taking it.”

“Villanelle.”

“Really, I am immobile and cannot chase you down.”

Eve looked at Villanelle and let out an angry laugh. What complete bullshit. To just discard Eve like she was a meaningless one-night stand.

“You laugh,” Villanelle said. “But, I’m serious.”

“Yeah, you can’t get rid of me that easily, asshole.”

Villanelle opened one eye and then the other. “Is that a challenge?”

And, there. There was the teeniest-tiniest hint of a smile at the corner of Villanelle's mouth.

“Mmm,” Eve said. “We’re not doing this right now.”

“Yes. We are.” Still, Villanelle eyed Eve with something remotely resembling interest. 

“No. And, here’s what’s going to happen next. I’m going to bring you some gatorade, and you’re going to sit your ass up and drink it.”

“I don’t think so-”

“And, then,” Eve said. “I’m going to go into the kitchen and make pasta that you’re going to force down in a few hours.”

“Eve. I’m very ill. You can’t force feed me.”

“You’re hungover. I know it’s hard to think about now, but you’ll be ravenous soon.”

Villanelle let out a small groan.

“And, after that, once you feel a little more human, we’re going to continue this conversation we’ve been avoiding,” Eve said.

“That _‘we’ve’_ been avoiding? What’s with that bullshit framing-”

“Not another word,” Eve said, shooting her a look.

  
  


**xxx**

  
  


Eventually, they did continue the conversation in bed, lying on their backs, side-by-side. For whatever reason, that was often when they were at their most honest. Remarkably, Villanelle had started feeling better in the early evening and, once she had realized she was hungry, she ate three servings of dinner. 

“You make very good spaghetti, Eve,” Villanelle said, staring at the ceiling. “I mean, for somebody who can’t cook for shit.”

“I'll take the compliment,” Eve said. “And, a word of advice?”

Villanelle turned her head toward Eve, and they looked at each other. 

“You’re still young,” Eve continued. “But, hangovers get much, much worse as you get older.”

“Don’t worry. I’m never drinking again,” Villanelle said. 

Eve laughed. 

“What?” Villanelle said. “I mean it.”

“Sometimes I forget what a baby you are.”

“Come on, that’s the least interesting thing about me.”

“Sure. I’ll give you that,” Eve said. “And, I mean, you can drink again. Just, maybe, less.”

“That’s not how it works with me.”

“Well, then, maybe we both should stop. I mean, I’ll stop too. For a while at least.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m the one with the problem.”

Eve shrugged.

“Besides, we’re not here to talk about drinking,” Villanelle said. She turned onto her side, facing Eve. 

“So, do you take it back?” Eve said. “What you said earlier. Now that you’re feeling more yourself?”

Villanelle smiled in a way that was small and sad. “What if I was feeling ‘more myself’ earlier this morning?”

“Okay,” Eve said. “You really think I should leave?”

“Well, you should know that I could catch you now if you tried.”

“That would make for one of my more interesting break-ups.”

“So,” Villanelle said. “You _do_ admit we are together.” Villanelle raised an eyebrow, but smiled slightly, as though she were being completely serious, but was also sort of sorry about it.

They both laid there, in silence, then. 

Villanelle shifted onto her back again and looked up at the ceiling. “So.”

“So.”

“So, Hélène called me, too,” Villanelle said. “The day after she called you.”

Eve’s breath hitched. “Okay. How was that?”

“I told her what I told you. I didn’t want to kill anymore.”

“I’m guessing that didn’t go over very well.”

“Good guess,” Villanelle said.

“Did she tell you she thinks I’ve ruined you?”

Villanelle laughed.

“What?” Eve said. When Villanelle continued laughing, Eve continued. “Oh god, what else?”

“She told me you don’t really love me. It’s just a fetish.”

“A fetish?”

“That your attraction to me is conditioned on me being a killer. That it’s not about me at all."

“Wow, okay. What a total shitbag,” Eve said. “Sorry, I know she was your boss. Or whatever.”

Villanelle shrugged. “Was she wrong though?”

“Villanelle,” Eve started. Tentatively, she moved onto her side, so that she was looking at Villanelle. Her heart racing, she wasn’t sure what to say, so she said nothing.

“That’s what I thought,” Villanelle said, her voice flat.

“I,” Eve started. “Look. Do you want to know what else she said to me?”

Villanelle sighed. “Sure,” she said, sounding annoyed.

“She said you would get bored with this. With us. With me.”

“What a total shitbag,” Villanelle said, sounding angry.

Eve reached forward, paused, and then placed her hand on Villanelle’s stomach. 

At her touch, Villanelle closed her eyes and then opened them again.

“I’ve thought about it,” Eve said. “Since then, I mean.” She licked her lips. Her throat felt dry. “Sorry,” she said. “I’ve just. I’ve never done this before.”

Villanelle turned onto her side again, facing Eve. “I remember what happened the last time you said that, so if you’re going to stab me, make sure it counts this time.” 

“Look,” Eve said. “I’m here empty-handed.” She moved her hand to Villanelle’s side, running it under her shirt and touching her skin. “And, what I said at the bar last night, Eve continued. "About you fucking other people. It _would_ bother me. Actually.”

“I know,” Villanelle said. She put a hand at Eve’s face. “What have you never done before?”

Eve took a breath and exhaled. “Cared,” she said. Her heart was pounding. 

“And that’s what scares you?”

“Yes. More than anything. More than this idea that you might get bored.” Eve said. “When we first started this, I thought it would be an intense, but short, thing. Something I could stay emotionally detached from, even if we had sex. Even if I was attracted to you.”

“ _Was?_ ” Villanelle said, frowning. "So you're not, anymore?" She moved in, then, and kissed Eve on the lips.

Eve closed her eyes and pulled Villanelle to her as Villanelle kissed her with more urgency. She moved her hand to the small of Villanelle’s back. God, she felt good. It had been weeks since they had kissed like this. 

Yes, this was the answer. They could continue this conversation later. Or, not at all. Eve moved her hand down, toward Villanelle’s waistband. 

But, Villanelle grabbed her hand, pulling it away. She looked at Eve, waiting for her to continue speaking, an eyebrow raised.

“Yes,” Eve said. “I’m _still_ attracted to you. Obviously.” She leaned forward to kiss Villanelle, but was met with a hand at her chest, stopping her.

“You can’t distract me with sex,” Villanelle said. She eyed Eve with a guarded, somewhat-scared look on her face. “I know what you are trying to do.”

“What the hell? _You_ started it.”

“I just wanted to see something.”

“What’s that?”

“Do you still want me even if I don’t kill?”

“Villanelle,” Eve said. “Come on. I don’t care if you kill. I don’t care about your money. I don’t care about your fancy clothes. None of that stuff is why I love you.”

Villanelle laughed for a moment, and then surprise registered on her face, “Oh,” she said. “You love me?” 

Oh. Eve paused. Her heart skipped a beat. She waited and waited for Villanelle to sneer at her moment of peak vulnerability. She fumbled to recover, unsure how, or if, she should. Then, eventually, she just shrugged. “I hate people, Villanelle. But, yeah. I guess don’t hate you.”

“Wow, thanks for the ringing endorsement.” Villanelle’s eyes darkened.

“Okay, wait,” Eve said. “I do love you, unfortunately. Fuck. I absolutely love you.” She couldn’t fully explain why she had had to include that “unfortunately,” other than it was her way of trying to let Villanelle know that, despite a lifetime of trying her damndest _not_ to fall in love with anyone, she had finally done so, and she had no control over it and was completely fucking petrified by it. She just hoped Villanelle understood.

Villanelle looked at Eve for a minute, with intensity. And then, the darkness passed over her face and a small, hopeful smile appeared. “So, you don’t want to leave?”

“No. I don’t want to leave.”

“Okay,” Villanelle said. “Good.”

“Do you still want to kick me out of your amazing beachfront property?”

“No, Eve.”

“Okay. Good,” Eve said. She thought about it for a minute and then added. “So, stop going out and fucking other people, asshole.”

Villanelle let out a laugh. “Eve, you idiot. Get up. I haven’t been having fucking anyone. Let me show you."

**xxx**


	6. Chapter 6

**xx Three Months Later xx**

  
  


In the Sorority Room, Eve sat on the white Victorian-style couch with a woman bent across her knee. She brought her bare hand down onto the woman’s ass with a smack, taking care to make contact with the fleshy part. 

Establishing a pattern, she began spanking. After each stroke, she rubbed her hand over the woman’s ass, caressing, as she carefully watched the woman’s reactions.

“I’m moving to the paddle now,” Eve said, firmly. She raised her hand and flexed her fingers. Her hand was warm and tingling. 

“Green,” the woman said.

“‘Green’ what, pledge?”

“Green, Commander.”

Eve made a sound of approval and then reached for the paddle sitting next to her, feeling the cool wood handle. She held it in her hand for a second, just feeling the weight of it. She bit her lip, savoring this moment, and raised the paddle above the woman’s ass. After a few seconds, she brought it down. 

The woman let out the tiniest grunt, and Eve smiled. 

Then, she brought the paddle down again and again, hitting slightly different spots on the woman’s ass. After each strike, Eve quickly assessed the woman’s movements, demeanor, and noises, trying to ascertain if it was too little, too much, or just right. 

Communication was important, and Eve was certainly receptive to it. But, she also had an intuitive knack for this work. Similar to the knack she had for deciphering the mind and behaviors of a certain assassin, based on phenomena she was more than eager to scrutinize.

Eventually, Eve stopped the spanking. She knew the woman resting bare-assed across her knee had not fully reached her limit, though the skin had certainly taken on a reddish-pink hue.

The woman actually seemed to be raising her ass a little higher, yearning.

Eve smiled and said, “That’s enough for tonight, pledge.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you, Commander.” 

Still, Eve thought she heard a twinge of disappointment in the woman’s voice. So be it. Better to leave a client wanting more than to go too far. Especially this early in Eve’s apprenticeship.

“I’m going to apply some cream now,” Eve said.

“Yes, Commander.”

Eve reached for the small tin of cream on the end table, opened it, and began applying. The ass was a bit warm to the touch and she heard the woman moan lightly. 

“There,” Eve said, finishing. “You may rise.”

The woman slowly rose and, eyeing Eve, took her time sliding into the soft white robe that rested on the couch.

Eve stood too, and didn’t avert her gaze. “How are you feeling, Hélène?”

“I could certainly go for a glass of wine after that.”

Eve gave Hélène an “I’m not your bitch” side-eye.

Already, Eve felt the dynamics between them shifting, as they inevitably did when a scene with an alpha-type ended. After spending a mere hour being submissive, they so often grasped for control again immediately. 

_Well, too fucking bad_ , Eve thought. “If it’s wine you want, there’s a bar three blocks from here.”

A big appeal of this business, unlike her previous, short-lived career as a barista, was that Eve didn’t have to pretend to be nice. Especially to people she didn’t even like. There was no one standing over her shoulder to _tsk tsk_ at her impoliteness here. In fact, in this line of work, customers seemed to like it more when she was unkind and matter-of-fact. She just had to honor consent and boundaries.

Hélène let out a laugh and tightened the belt on her robe. “Well, then.”

“Yes, well, then,” Eve said. A sweater with Greek letters on it hung loosely over her shoulders like she was a preppy young woman from an 80s movie. She also wore a short white skirt and matching top, much like a tennis outfit. Eve took the sweater off, placed it on the back of the couch, and gestured toward the door. “I hope you found our services satisfactory today.”

“Oh, I did, Eve Polastri,” Hélène said, standing her ground. “Or, are you officially going by Astankova these days?”

Eve raised a brow, but said nothing. She was fully aware that Hélène knew every name she had and would ever use “officially."

“Well, anyway,” Hélène continued. “You have very nice, very _angry_ hands.”

“So I’ve been told.”

“Men would pay a lot of money to be spanked by you. You should reconsider that women-only policy.”

“Yeah, no,” Eve said, openly cringing. “Put grown men in diapers and have them beg me for a wank? I don’t think so.”

“I see your point.” Hélène said, eyeing Eve. Then, she shook her head and let out a laugh.

“What?”

“I’m glad I got to see all of this,” Hélène gestured around the room and at Eve. “For myself. The changes you both have made to this club have been a major upgrade.”

“Yes.”

“And, this is really what she wants to do now?” Hélène said. “Villanelle is happy?” A look passed over her face. Regret? Envy? Anger? All of the above? 

“She is,” Eve said. “It’s apparently something she’d been thinking about for a long time.”

“Well. She certainly had a talent for embellishing her assignments from The Twelve with her own particular flourishes,” Hélène said, looking in the distance as if fondly remembering specific scenarios. “Always such a talent for getting into character, that one.”

Eve nodded, looking off into the distance with Hélène.

“We trained her for many years to take on all sorts of roles, you know,” Hélène continued. “So, in a way, she’ll always be in our debt.”

“Sure, Hélène.” Eve gestured toward the door and they both started walking toward it. 

“Just something to consider.”

“If you’re saying you want to be a silent investor, I’m listening.” _Otherwise, shut the fuck up_.

Hélène smiled knowingly. “You don’t need the money.”

“No. We don’t.”

“I know. Don’t forget, I have an accounting of exactly how much Villanelle made all those years.”

“I’m sure you do.” Eve shook her head. A lot of people had paid a steep cost, including Villanelle, for their financial cushion. It was blood money. They certainly didn’t need more of it from Hélène.

They stood there for a minute, near the door, and then Hélène turned back to Eve. “And, you’re okay with this? Her being with other people?”

“You really like to push people’s buttons, don’t you?”

“It _is_ a big part of my job.”

Eve smiled and shrugged. “All of this is just business. We don’t have sex with any of our clients. They come here to have specific needs met, which we fulfill. That’s it.”

“That’s it, huh?”

“Yeah, so we like it, too. And, I hear that if you do work you like, you won’t work a day in your life.”

Eve reached for the doorknob, but Hélène put her hand on the door, holding it shut. “She liked her old job, too.”

Eve smiled, but it had an irreverence to it. “Before she met me, you mean.”

“Of course that’s what I mean. You’ve had a very particular influence on her,” Hélène said. “Not one I’m thrilled with.”

“You seemed thrilled with it a few minutes ago.”

Hélène narrowed her eyes. “I _will_ be watching you. Both of you.”

“We don’t yet offer voyeurism experiences,” Eve said, looking Hélène in the eyes. “But, maybe we could arrange something special for you.”

“How novel,” Hélène said. Then she turned serious. “Have your fun here, Eve. But, a word of advice. If we find out she’s killing for anyone else, well, that would be very bad.”

“She’s done with that life, Hélène.”

“She better be.” Hélène removed her hand from the door.

Eve opened the door and gestured grandly for Hélène to go first, toward the main reception area.

“You really were lovely, Eve,” Hélène said, changing her tone and stopping close to Eve. A little too close, really.

Eve had the briefest thought that Hélène might kiss her or do something else, like hug her, that would be fucking weird and a breach of etiquette. 

Instead, Hélène said, “I’ll think of you every time I sit down for the next week.”

“Come back again and we could make that a month,” Eve said, standing her ground. Her heart was thudding, even as she spoke, whether from excitement or fear - or both - she wasn’t entirely sure. 

“I certainly will,” Hélène said, as she walked through the door. “Although, next time, I might request Oksana.”

“We’ll see about that.”

  
  


**xxx**

  
  


After seeing Hélène out, Eve locked the front door. It was nighttime and no more appointments were booked for the day. She checked her phone and saw a text message waiting:

_Hey Kill Commander, meet me in the dungeon? Don’t change._

Eve smiled and bit her bottom lip. Well, then. 

She grabbed a quick drink of water and made her way down the hall. She passed some of the other themed rooms - the doctor’s office, the fitness studio, the throne room, the assassin’s loft - and came to the dungeon.

“Hey, I saw your text. I didn’t know if you had gone home yet.” Eve said, stepping inside the dark room. She immediately felt the coolness of the temperature-controlled room. The lighting was dim and her eyes had not yet adjusted to the dark. Still, she looked around. 

A sconce on one of the walls cast a small halo of orange light in the room, but Eve still couldn’t see much. 

She took a few more steps into the room. “Villanelle?” she said, and let out a nervous laugh. She looked around and then waited. Silence. 

Then, quick footsteps to the side and behind her, pattering over the cobblestone floor.

Eve’s heart skipped a beat. She started to turn, but felt a hand at her waist, firmly holding her in place, and another over her mouth.

“What is a nice girl like you doing in a dark, scary place like this?” Villanelle said from behind, into Eve’s ear. She moved her hand from Eve’s mouth and put it at her waist, guiding her around, so they were facing each other. 

Eve smiled, and looked up at Villanelle, whose face she could see in the dim light. She leaned her body slightly in and adopted her higher-pitched sorority-girl voice. “I think I’m lost. I just left my sorority house and ended up here. Can you help me, miss?”

“It's Madam.” Villanelle had assumed her Oksana persona, affecting the heavy Russian accent that drove people wild. “And you don’t want the sort of help I can offer.”

“I’m sure I would be most grateful, Madam. I don’t have much money, but let me know. Whatever you want.”

Villanelle smiled, blatantly looking Eve up and down. “A sorority house, you said?”

“Yes,” Eve said. Then, she looked around. “You don’t think. Could there be bad people here, or monsters?”

“Definitely,” Villanelle said. She put a hand under Eve’s chin, forcing them to make eye contact. She then broke character. “Speaking of, how was she?”

Eve broke character, too. "You mean the tall Caucasian alpha lesbian who is massively pissed off that I stole you from her?” 

“Mm-hmm, that’s the one.”

“Well, she left satisfied, for now.”

“Good,” Villanelle said, looking into Eve’s eyes with a familiar intensity. She put her hands back at Eve’s waist and drew her closer. “Not too satisfied, I hope.”

Eve smiled and put her hands at Villanelle’s waist. “The Twelve will leave us alone. She saw that what we’re doing here is real and not some front for our own assassin agency.” Mentally, she added, _So please don’t go after her and try to stab her with a hairpin._

“Eve. Relax,” Villanelle said with a smile. “I’m not going to kill her. You give me no credit at all.”

“Hey, I defended you. I told her you’ve changed.”

Villanelle narrowed her eyes. “Fine,” she said. “Shall we continue? Sorority girl with bi-curious, sadomasochistic fantasies meets dominatrix in the dungeon? I think it will be very popular with the married housewife set.”

Eve finally took Villanelle in, more fully, now that her eyes had adjusted to the lighting. 

Villanelle wore black, starting with thigh-high boots, tight leather pants, and a corset top. On her hip, she wore a holster, of sorts, which held a riding crop. 

“Uh-huh,” Eve said, with a nod. “Yeah.”

“Good,” Villanelle said. “Then start by closing your mouth.” 

Eve obliged. But, she quickly realized she had one more thing to say. “Just so you know, I was trying to keep you away from a situation that might have tempted you into killing. I really do believe you’re done with that. It’s just. Your impulse control has always been a little, well.” Eve grimaced. 

Villanelle tilted her head and sighed, considering. “Yes. I know. That’s why you insisted on meeting Hélène alone today.” Then, she leaned in toward Eve, and whispered in her ear. “Although, I know you also enjoyed spanking that ass.”

“Well,” Eve shrugged. She _had_ enjoyed it. And, now she was mostly relieved that Villanelle had stuck around afterwards to play. “I won’t argue with that.”

“Hmmm.” Villanelle backed away, and then removed the riding crop from the holster and placed it upright against her shoulder. Shifting back into Oksana mode, she began pacing in front of Eve. “Tell me about your sorority friends.” 

“What do you want to know, Madam?”

Villanelle stopped pacing and touched the bottom of Eve’s skirt with the riding crop. “Do they also wear these sorts of outfits?”

“Yes, Madam. We all do.”

Villanelle slid the crop against Eve’s bare leg, just grazing it. When gooseflesh broke out on Eve’s leg, Villanelle smiled and then moved the crop back upright again. She took a step back and examined Eve’s face. “Your face is flushed. Are you nervous or something, being here?”

“No, Madam.”

“You are welcome to leave.” Villanelle gestured toward the door.

“No, I. I want to stay.”

Villanelle gave a quick nod and began pacing in front of Eve. “These friends of yours. They just let you wander off all on your own? With no regard to who you might encounter?”

“Yes, Madam. I didn’t want to go to a fraternity party they were all going to.”

“Why not?” Villanelle stopped pacing in front of Eve and looked at her.

“They’re boring.”

“Yes. They are.” Villanelle used the riding crop to lift Eve’s chin upward. “So, it’s excitement you’re after?”

Eve nodded. 

Villanelle considered Eve, and then took a step closer. Abruptly she took hold of both of Eve’s wrists and pushed her up against the back wall, raising her arms over her head.

Eve’s heart raced. The stone wall was cold against her back. She knew they were just practicing a scene, something they did often, as they worked through different scenarios they could use in the business. Still, it was hard not to get caught up in it. She was already amped up from her session with Hélène-

“You should be careful what you wish for,” Villanelle said. She began putting Eve’s wrists in shackles, connected to the wall, above her head. “And what sorts of people you stumble into.” Villanelle clicked the cuffs closed. 

“The way I remember it,” Eve started, with a small, challenging smile. “You were the one who stumbled into me.”

Villanelle smiled at Eve’s momentary break in character and moved in close, putting her mouth to Eve’s ear. “Those are pretty brave words for somebody chained to a wall.”

Eve felt Villanelle’s breath on her. She moved her arms, testing the chains. Yep, she was locked. Then, she turned her head and sought Villanelle’s lips. She was just able to graze them before Villanelle pulled back. 

“Rude,” Villanelle said. She slapped the riding crop against the wall, near Eve’s thigh, making a loud smacking noise.

“Sorry, Madam,” Eve said, feeling the wind from the crop. She would never actually kiss a client, and neither would Villanelle, but a part of her wanted to get a rise out of Oksana tonight. The same part of her that simply wanted to fuck. “I’ve. Well. I’ve never kissed a woman. I don’t know what I was thinking!” 

Eve smiled as she watched Villanelle’s face flush. She knew how much Villanelle got off on being the first and only woman Eve had been with.

“Well, I find that very hard to believe,” Villanelle said. “All those young women around all the time in these sorts of outfits. Fighting with pillows. Giving each other massages.”

Eve raised an eyebrow. “You’re being very stereotypical, Madam.”

“And you have a very smart mouth. Maybe I should put it to work.”

"Oh," Eve said. "What did you have in mind? You aren't going to punish me, are you?

Villanelle pointed the riding crop at Eve’s neck and then slowly drew it downward, making contact first at her sternum and sliding the tip of it down Eve’s torso. 

It was the latent monster inside of Villanelle that had, and always would, turn Eve on, no matter how much her rational, moral higher tried to warn her from doing so. Danger was a part of Villanelle, Eve knew, that would always exist, even if she never actually killed again.

Villanelle drew the riding crop between Eve’s still-fully-clothed legs, then, pressing its tip gently against her clit. “It depends on what you consider punishment,” she said. “Do you like this?”

“Madam, what are you doing?” Eve licked her lips and slightly rocked her hips into the touch, only to have Villanelle pull the riding crop away. 

“Hmm,” Villanelle said, she took a step back and looked at Eve, as if admiring her efforts at getting Eve into a state of being aroused, chained to a wall.

“Villanelle,” Eve said, breaking character again. “Please.” She moved her arms against the chains, in vain.

“So impatient tonight,” Villanelle said, smiling. “You haven’t used your safeword. Do I need to leave you here alone until you calm down enough for us to practice?”

“Seriously? Just get over here.”

Villanelle let out an amused laugh, but then she turned serious. Letting the riding crop fall from her hand, she stepped toward Eve and reached her hand forward, touching her face. Then, she touched her lips to Eve’s.

As Villanelle kissed her, Eve instinctively tried to put her arms in an embrace around Villanelle, but was met with resistance again. The chains. 

She could feel Villanelle smiling slightly against her mouth, as she ran a hand up Eve’s shirt. Her nipples hardened under Villanelle’s touch, as Villanelle pulled first one and then the other, and then lightly scraped her fingernails down Eve’s stomach. 

“You really got worked up tonight, huh, Eve?”

Eve opened her mouth but, somewhat embarrassingly, only a moan came out.

Villanelle slid her hand down to Eve’s ass, and then lower, to the back of her thigh, lifting her leg around her waist and pushing into her. “I’ll take that as a yes,” she said.

Eve closed her eyes, the back of her head resting against the wall. 

Villanelle kissed her again, deeply this time, as she continued pressing into Eve. A part of Eve wanted her hands free and her clothes off, immediately, so she could touch Villanelle. All of Villanelle. But, a bigger part of Eve was satisfied right where she was. 

Villanelle pulled slightly away and whispered, “You’re mine, Eve.”

“Yes.”

Villanelle gave a nod, and then kissed Eve again before sliding down her body, ending up in a half-kneeling position. Her hands reached up Eve’s skirt, took hold of Eve’s underwear, and slid them down past her knees and to her ankles, where she helped Eve step out of them. 

Eve spread her legs apart, in hopeful anticipation. She heard Villanelle let out a small laugh in response. 

“So eager,” Villanelle said. 

Eve had no shame. She knew Villanelle was loving every moment of this. She knew Villanelle had long wanted her in precisely this position, really from the moment they first met. 

Still kneeling, Villanelle made contact again by first kissing the inside of Eve’s knee. She started softly, and then licked her way, slowly and deliberately, upwards, ending with her head underneath Eve’s skirt. 

Eve took a long, slow breath, waiting. She felt Villanelle test a finger, gently, just barely inside her. She heard a murmur of approval, in Russian, which Villanelle sometimes reverted to. Eve knew she was very, very wet. That they both were. Villanelle’s finger slipped more fully inside of her, rather easily. 

And then, gloriously, she felt Villanelle’s mouth on her. Maybe she would make Eve come quickly, or perhaps draw it out this time. For now, she gave Eve pleasure in that delicious way she did that was knowing and generous and skillful. 

This was Eve’s life now. 

And, it was turning out to be a very good life, even if it was not the life she could have imagined only a couple years previously. She was co-running a business, on her own terms, with the woman who had once been her professional rival, her evasive obsession. Now, they had plenty of time and money to travel and indulge in life’s fantasies and pleasures. All it had taken was a worldwide crisis to crystallize what, exactly, she wanted and who she wanted to let herself become. 

She had never meant to fall in love with Villanelle. She had never meant to fall in love, period. But, meeting Villanelle had been like looking in a mirror. A fucked-up fun house mirror, sure, but one that also showed her a reflection of herself that was more true and more real than any she had seen before.

Eve had been elusive, hard to pin down, for most of her adult life, especially when it came to romance. She had known, for years, that it would take a rare person to accept her as she truly was - including her darkness - if such a person existed at all. So, she had let herself coast, year after year, in mediocre relationships, keeping the darkest, truest part of herself hidden. 

Everything changed, almost immediately, when she had met Villanelle. Villanelle who was multi-layered, fanatical, dangerous, and yearning to be loved, but also somehow the most genuine person she had ever known. She was the woman who loved Eve, all of Eve, and her darkness most of all.

To outsiders looking at them now, perhaps especially their old colleagues, most would assume that Eve was living a brand new life in which she had somehow tamed a violent monster. And, while that was true to an extent, it was also very, very much the other way around, as well.

**xxx The End xxx**


End file.
